


Ashes of Faith

by Madelief



Series: Alpha and Omega [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Violence, Canon Related, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Novel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long, Love, Love at First Sight, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Inquisitor, POV Original Character, Panic Attacks, Plot, Plot Twists, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Red Lyrium, Romance, Romance Novel, Self-Harm, Trauma, Violence, some characters not as portrayed ingame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 106,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madelief/pseuds/Madelief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ON HIATUS FOR HEALTH REASONS, NO FURTHER UPDATES FOR NOW. Corypheus was dead. The Breach was closed. It was meant to be the point where Lea could tell the Inquisition to pack up and go home, a job well done by all and the ungrateful ruling classes be dammed with their continual whinging. She was done with the lot of them. She wanted to do nothing but spend time with the man who had shown her what it truly meant to be alive, the man who had sacrificed everything just to see her live. At long last, after years of confinement in the Circle then the gruelling yoke of Inquisitor denying Lea her freedom, a new life was there for the taking. </p><p>Or so she'd stupidly believed given the Maker was, for some inexplicable reason, intent on putting their faith to the ultimate test. Everything was about to get complicated.... </p><p>Cullen Rutherford and Leaena Trevelyan's Dragon Age:Inquisition's AU story continues from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4214223/chapters/9525645">A Moment of Eternity</a>. Explicit content and language from the start. I do not put TWs at the start of chapters so please check tags before reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A World Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I renamed this - couldn't get on with the title I originally picked!

_Leaena,_

_Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here, staring at this piece of parchment? Well, seeing as you never will, this foolish attempt of mine at normality makes little difference._

_I can never send you this, or any other, letter. Yet for some absurd reason I feel the need to write to you. To pretend, just for a few blessed minutes, that I’m merely on a mission and I’m going to be heading back to Skyhold and, most importantly you. I don’t have a clue what to say, aside from the fact that the mere act of putting thoughts to paper may bring you closer. The divide can never be bridged, but if you ever find this then – well, it wasn’t because I didn’t care. Quite the opposite. My ultimate downfall, yet I have no regrets._

_~~It’s cold, colder than even you’d be able to tolerate here. One of your warming spells would go in handy.~~ _ _Maker, that was an inane comment for me to make. Nothing will ever be normal again and I can’t make believe otherwise._

_You’re never away from my thoughts, Leaena. You never have been, but now? It is only knowing that you live and breathe that keeps me from finding a permanent way to cross the Veil._

_I let my mind go on this long march, drifting to another time and place when all we had to worry about were demons falling from the sky and lunatic magisters playing at being a deity. Dare I say it, but things were simple then. We’d fallen in love and we were just discovering each other. It was a journey of self-exploration - a journey with you that I’d happily undertake for the rest of my life. Every time I thought there couldn’t be more to find out about this wonderful woman who had decided I was worthy of her affections, there it was. A new way to love, to laugh, to cry, to heal – and to simply be._

_From the magic of those first days in Haven, through to surviving the Fade and everything in between and after, you have been there. A part of you will always be with me, regardless of whether you forgive me this final crime_. _~~I hope.~~ Despite the thousands of miles that will forever be between us, that somewhere you’ll know. For you, and you alone I had to leave. Even with the realisation that I will never see you again, that somewhere you are alive and well - it makes this permanent separation worth it. I won’t fail you in this. I am not yet defeated – will never be defeated! Not if it means that you live. _

_~~Forgive me just once more, I beg of you.~~ _ _No, that I do not deserve. I cannot ask that of you, not after the devastation I know I have left behind. This evil has stripped me of everything. But what we shared? They can never take away from me, no matter how much they may try to break my spirit._

_I hope you’ve woken by now and that you’re not going to come after me. You can’t, even if you wanted to. Events have conspired to make such a move impossible, but I ….._

_Time has run out – I hear footsteps! They must never guess….if you must believe one thing, my lady, believe this. I will continue to fight for you till the day I die. That I swear._

_C_


	2. Hidden Truths

‘It’s been a month! How much longer are we expected to wait?’

‘As long as we need to. Do you want to be the one to go back there and raise her from the dead?’

‘Haha what a good jest. Or it would be, if now was the time to crack jokes! Our esteemed leader has been knocked out the whole time he’s been gone. Don’t you think that’s somewhat more than mere coincidence?’

‘Thanks for the elementary lesson in spying, Sparkler! I told you, I’m on it. What is this shit? You want to start another bloody bar brawl?’

In spite of the crappy circumstances the Inquisition had found itself in yet again, Varric felt his lips quirk in a slight smile at Dorian’s look of astonishment from such a ridiculous suggestion.

‘I lend glamour to the world around me wherever I go. There is a flawless artistry to my magic, a beauty I bestow on those privileged enough to be on the receiving end of such splendour. Another bar brawl? I’ll leave that to the likes of Blackwall to provide the evening’s entertainment, thanks. Why in the Maker’s name would I ever be involved in something as uncouth as a common bout of fisticuffs?’

Dorian’s expansively dismissive flick of his wrist as he looked around the dingy bar, then down at the filthy clothes he’d been forced to don with distaste, bought forth the first proper chuckle from Varric since their supposedly triumphant return to Skyhold. If there was one thing Dorian struggled at, it was blending into the background. It was only for the sake of the two people so pivotal to the wellbeing of the rest of them that the mage had agreed in the first place. All of them were still exhausted from a battle from which the Inquisitor had yet to awaken from, nearly defeated from the war she’d been forced to fight both in her mind as well as on the ground. But they’d had to turn around and hit the road almost immediately upon returning.

Varric had been amazed at the ease with which the Inquisitor had ultimately vanquished the insane magister who had stalked her throughout the longest year of their lives. Lea’s miraculous rise when they’d thought all was lost, broken from the fight with the monstrous dragon would have had Varric weeping with joy – if he hadn’t been busy dodging a ferocious swipe from a demon at the same time.

The magnitude of raw energy she’d controlled with little effort to shove Corypheus firmly back in the Fade, and so rapidly, had left Varric in awe. He wasn’t used to feeling so humbled by such casual displays of earth-shattering power. He’d lived through some of the worst Thedas had to throw at a dwarf, after all. But at the sight of the blazing nimbus of light that his friend morphed into had left him out of glib responses and flippant one-liners. If anything, he’d been a bit terrified of Lea at that particular point in time.

The stark reminder of why he was hunched up in the corner of one of Ferelden’s grottiest hovels, avoiding putting his mouth anywhere near the grimy mug he was pretending to nurse, wiped the grin from his face.

‘He’s headed straight for the Anderfels. So you’ll have to wait some time for that particular round of entertainment, especially if you’re planning on begging Curly for a repeat display.’

A humourless laugh was all he could manage as the nightmare of the last four weeks replayed in his mind for the millionth bloody time.   

‘How did you find that out?’ Dorian’s own frown of concern belied the light tone he tried to adopt, steering them away from a conversation that would only depress them both. ‘I thought you said your network was nowhere near as good as a particular friend of ours.’

‘It isn’t. She told me herself.’ Another reluctant grin escaped Varric at the sight of Dorian’s scowl. ‘I only received word from her earlier today, before you get on your high horse.’

‘But why? Right now, we need all the help we can get, not run the risk of him being lost to some archaic ritual.’ Dorian took an absentminded sip of the whiskey he’d been avoiding, Varric not containing his laughter this time at the look of disgust that crossed the mage’s face once he’d realised his error. ‘Maker, that’s horrendous! This is not funny, dwarf! Such horse piss is going to set my liver back ten years – what the fuck is it now!’

Both of them jumped in alarm at the quivering dagger that had planted itself squarely in the middle of the rough table. It only took Varric a split second to register the familiar markings, relaxing slightly as the buzz of anticipation took hold.

_At last!_

‘He alone can secure the support of Weisshaupt in this matter, or at the very least get some much needed intelligence. And my dear Vint, I’m afraid your liver might just be a lost cause. In which case, you may as well enjoy the delights of inebriation and finish the lot off.’

Cadan’s careless grin as he slid into the booth next to Varric made them both release their held breaths of trepidation. Dorian tossed back the remainder of the foul-looking yellow liquid, immediately turning slightly green.

‘About time you got here,’ he wheezed, much to Varric and Cadan’s amusement. ‘Do you have any idea what being in such a Maker-forsaken shithole is doing for my reputation right now?’

‘You do have a habit of picking the most cutthroat dives for your meetings.’ Varric withheld Cadan’s title, as he’d done throughout the entire trip for them all. ‘Just so you know, Sparkler is as incognito as he’s going to get.’

‘That’s sensible,’ Cadan agreed, nodding his approval at the dark corner they’d hidden themselves in. ‘Magic use would probably be picked up anyway. But we’re clear for now. This is one of my top safe houses but let’s remain circumspect. I’ll know if a rat escapes – they won’t get very far. Especially not with what is at stake.’

The gleam of calculation in Cadan’s midnight blue eyes glittered, the tension all three men felt heightened as they were bluntly reminded of the peril hanging over their heads. Cadan gestured his thanks to the barmaid who’d unceremoniously slammed down a bottle of brandy that, to Varric’s expert eye, shouldn’t have been available in what amounted to little more than a shack.

Winking his thanks as the buxom young woman tittered and sashayed off, Lea’s twin brother had never looked more handsomely piratical than at that moment. His devilish smile and flash of white teeth were noticeable against the swarthy tan of his skin, the jet-black mess of his hair carelessly pushed back by one hand whilst the other deftly uncorked the bottle, taking a deep swig. His gaze remained fixed on the swaying backside of the young woman who’d deliberately bent over at the next table to give them all a better view, Dorian laughing lightly under his breath at such blatant antics.

‘Wasted on me, I’m afraid, although you appear to have made a conquest.’ Dorian gratefully accepted the brandy, sighing in appreciation as he passed the bottle over to Varric. ‘How on earth did you manage to get such a vintage in this – don’t tell me. I’m actually more interested in why you’re ogling that pretty young thing when I thought you were all but ready to propose to a certain delightful Antivan.’

‘Oh, that. Yesterday’s news.’ Cadan’s eyes flickered over the comely, if somewhat grubby, woman once more before retrieving his dagger in one fluid motion, tossing it idly up and down in an absent display of technical brilliance only the very best could master. ‘She won’t have me. And that young woman is one of my newest agents, with a bright future in front of her. It was a pleasure introducing her to the basics, of that I can assure you. Next?’

‘Nothing is ever straightforward,’ Varric muttered, emptying the contents of his mug on the filthy straw rushes covering the floor and instead pouring himself a liberal shot of Cadan’s brandy. ‘We’ve got some time to kill before we can speak openly and, thanks to your skills in seduction, a more pleasant way to pass the time. So, who gets to go first?’

‘Why not? Seeing as you’ll never let it go without me saying something. Given the present is even more horrific to contemplate than my own stupidity, let’s talk about that instead and get it out of the way.’ Cadan closed his eyes, for one moment letting his roguish veneer slip to reveal the depth of pain beneath. ‘It was soon after you’d all returned from Dumat. I thought she wanted the same as me. To marry, have a few brats running around, settle down. Funnily enough, she didn’t think I was capable, nor that we’d deal well together. Apparently, she wants to go to Antiva once this is all over, and I must remain here. So, there you have it. Worlds apart. Along with some bullshit Orlesian saying she parroted at me as I stormed off.’

‘ _La splendeur des couers perdues_? Ouch. So that’s why you so abruptly disappeared, and for so long.’ Dorian nodded in sympathy as Varric’s brow wrinkled in confusion. ‘The splendour of lost hearts. Some in Orlais find it thrillingly romantic to permanently pine for one another without actually doing anything about it. I thought she was made of sterner stuff.’

‘She is, and pining isn’t in my vocabulary. We’ve been down this road too many times now for us to return. I won’t compromise who I am, and nor should she. I also cannot imagine rusticating away in an office peddling ships all over the Waking Sea, just as she won’t return to the life of a bard, no matter that she’d be adored in Denerim.’ Cadan’s voice was cold, his features hardening into his habitual mask of bored cynicism. ‘We have both changed too much since our misbegotten youth. It was foolish of me to believe I could salvage something from the ashes of a young man’s passions. Therefore, it is over. Out of respect to the lady she will always be, and the history we share together, I have said all I’ll say on the subject. Who’s up?’

Varric stared at his old friend in consternation, preferring for once to focus on the drama of everyday life than the enormity of what threatened to engulf them all. He’d noticed Josephine, ever the professional, become withdrawn with a lingering sadness over the last couple of months that no one could quite explain. He’d put it down to Cadan’s prolonged absence, not for one moment suspecting that both situations were a result of such a permanent separation.

‘You two have been making up and breaking up more times than Sparkler’s had hangovers,’ he replied wearily, all of them too close to both Josephine and Lea’s twin to want to pry any deeper. ‘But don’t worry. If you say this is it this time, then I will question you no further. So go on then, Sparkler. Spill.’

‘Remarkably enough, much the same as our esteemed friends here. Duty takes me elsewhere, to a place no Qunari, even a Tal Vashoth, can travel.’ Dorian’s quietly mocking tone said more than enough for Varric and Cadan to fully understand what he wasn’t saying. ‘I will not abandon my responsibilities. It was the whole reason I journeyed south in the first place, and the reason I must return. I was naïve to believe otherwise. In such circumstances, it is easier to set the other free.’

‘Easier? Perhaps.’ Varric wondered if he’d ever able to escape the deep ache that sat somewhere underneath his heart on a permanent basis, deciding it was preferable to focus on anything else but lost love. ‘No wonder you can’t stand to be around much any more, volunteering to join me on such adventures as this one.’

‘You needed me, never doubt it,’ Dorian quipped, deliberately distancing himself from a relationship that had affected him far more than he would ever be prepared to admit. ‘You take me to all the interesting places, after all. How much longer, by the way? Alamar has never looked worse, especially at this time of year.’

‘Sorry to not provide you with the Teryn’s castle to keep you in the style you’re accustomed to,’ Cadan replied distractedly, his eyes fixed on a hooded mercenary who had just strode purposefully into the dingy tap room. Dorian and Varric picked up the agreed signal, the lethal blade Cadan had been absently juggling like a child’s toy slamming home once more into the table. ‘I have it on very good authority, however, that you won’t have to wait much longer.’

‘Is that so? Well, I’d best enjoy your hospitality whilst I can in that case.’ Dorian took a liberal gulp from the bottle, setting it back down with a lusty groan as he deliberately raised his voice. ‘It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen, but I do find that the rustic charms of the South have worn somewhat thin over the last two days. Not to mention this stinking ginshop. Do you know how long it’s going to take me to wash the stench of cheap ale from my hair?’

‘I’m sorry you haven’t found Ferelden to your liking. Perhaps you’d like to step outside and discuss it further? If it’s an education you seek I think you’ll find that I’m more than qualified to enlighten you.’

The unexpectedly harsh growl from the warrior made even Varric second guess his identity, Cadan’s grin broadening at Dorian’s irritated glare. The tap room ignored their muted dialogue, the few inebriated patrons far too gone to pay any heed to four travelers with an aura of danger that indicated to people, in this part of town, to pay extreme caution. Pushing himself to standing, Varric adjusted Bianca across his back in his usual automatic gesture as the others secured their weapons, his and Cadan’s quick scan of the room indicating that all was, so far, clear.

‘Well hello to you too, and about bloody time. Really, the manners in this country! You always did represent the worst of it. What else can I expect after all, from a land that ranks dogs above a decent bath and a clean change of clothing. Come then, dear fellow, let us take this debate outside, shall we? Don’t they have timekeeping devices in this country? I have paid well for your services and yet you’ve left me kicking my heels these several days or more. It’s going to take weeks to not reek of the sewers.’

‘Be my guest. Talk is cheap, however. I’d advise you put some money where your mouth is.’ The mercenary jerked his head towards the door, motioning impatiently for them to follow. ‘The package you wanted delivered took some time to arrange. I forgot how delicate you Vints are, but then a few fleas never did anyone any harm. You’ll live.’

‘Maker’s Breath, what a land of savages! You’ll have to explain to me why canines are known as man’s best friend. Or friends, seeing as you get a few hangers-on for free….’

Dorian’s indignant complaints were enough to distract anyone from the other members of the party. The four of them rapidly made their way outside in the deserted gloom of dusk, Cadan’s conquest giving him one last, heated glance with the man in question seemingly oblivious to her invitation. No one mentioned another word once they were clear, all of them keen to escape the confines of the tavern and into a place of relative security. At least, Varric amended hastily, somewhere he could swing a crossbow free. The air was no less rank outside than it had been inside, the nauseating smell of rotting fish and offal being tossed into the filthy water beneath his feet as they quickly but stealthily made their way along the dock. Attracting attention at this stage of the game would doom them to immediate failure.

_Well, well, who would have thought it?_

_I may live to fight another day yet._

Cadan had chosen the ideal rendezvous, the bar being mere minutes away from their ultimate destination and subsequent exit out of one of Ferelden’s most dangerous cities. Varric would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t relieved to get on the ship that awaited them, the fluttering black flag with red and white insignia flying high on the tallest of the three masts a signal of a life that he’d long thought left behind. Without wasting any time they were ushered on board by two Rivainis who, at first glance, were more thug than sailor. It was only the flash of intelligence Varric spotted in their eyes before they snarled at him in some illegible dialect that told him otherwise. Cadan had, of course, done his job well.

Even as Cadan leapt onto the deck behind him, the ship became a hive of activity, albeit a silent one. The lights were dimmed and the sailors stealthily casting off from the dock, the sleek lines of the ship’s prow cutting silently through the late evening tide as the stiff wind caught the topsail. Varric had to admire the professional outfit he saw in operation around him. Within less than a minute the hustle of activity had stopped, he, Dorian, Cadan and their newest companion immediately dropping face-down onto the damp hardwood of the rear deck as they awaited further instructions.

They knew in advance that to speak at this, the most critical point of their plan, would be catastrophic. Stealth and speed were of the essence and whispers carried, even in breezes such as the one that the Maker had seen fit to bless them with. All that was left to do was wait and pray, Varric unsure when he’d felt this nervous. Certainly not when facing down an Arishok, a crazed red-lyrium driven Templar and an insane magister with delusions of godhood.

_Even then, the stakes were never so high as they are now._

_Andraste’s tits, how is it that everything keeps getting worse, not better!_

It felt like an age, along with a significant adjustment of his stomach to the open sea only metres beneath him, before a gentle pressure on his left shoulder and a deep rumble of laughter convinced him they had finally made it free.

‘Yes, Varric, we’re away, don’t worry. I even dusted off my best sabre in case some of Isabela’s friends decided to try their luck. Where is she anyway?’

‘She sends her compliments but finds that pressing affairs keep her away from Ferelden’s shores,’ Varric replied blandly as he struggled to his feet, sucking in lungfuls of fresh sea air to soothe his roiling belly. ‘In the meantime, here is her fastest privateer to transport you in the style you are accustomed to. Translate that as you will.’

Varric resignedly watched the tall stranger push his hood back and flash them all a boyish grin, his exuberance at this latest adventure not at all tamed by the passage of time.

_No, it wouldn’t be would it?_

_Any excuse to get away from the nursemaids of Denerim and to seek out your Warden._

‘She’s still running away from that crew operating out of Llomerryn? I’m also going to pretend that Isabela has finally discovered the meaning of the word etiquette judging from your polite words.’ Alistair stretched his arms above his head and yawned, the abundance of beard, shabby cloak and battered longsword at his hip a far cry from his usual regalia as King of Ferelden. ‘But I see the captain gesturing to us – let’s discover how long we’ll be stuck on this leaky tub of hers and get ourselves comfortable. There is much to discuss.’

Varric hung back from the discussion Alistair and Cadan were having with Isabela’s second in command, boats and all things nautical of little interest when so much hung in the balance. He wanted to get on with the task at hand, the one that had them all waiting for the aftershocks of its impact to be felt even one month on. The light distraction of other people’s lives had worked for all of five seconds, both Cadan and Dorian grown men who knew their own minds. None of it had really focussed him away from the real danger. He just hoped this last, desperate gamble of theirs might actually pay off.

They were soon out of the chill of the winter’s night and seated at the round table in the captain’s private quarters, the rolling of the sea no longer quite so pronounced. Dorian was viewing with admiration Isabela’s drinks cabinet, selecting a priceless whisky and quickly sharing around much-needed fortification. The tension that had surrounded their group had lessened somewhat now the immediate urgency of spiriting Alistair away from numerous spies, assassins and his never-ending responsibilities had been a success. The bigger question still remained, however, one that no one, for once, wanted to shy away from.

‘Tell me firstly, before anything else. How is she?’ The physical pain Cadan felt at the damage meted out to his twin was written across his face, not to mention his guilt at not having been there to support her.

‘She was still in and out of wakefulness when we left, not really aware of the world around her before slipping back into unconsciousness again. You have to understand the pressure Lea was under, doing battle across two realms and then to bring all the magic she could muster to finish off Corypheus for once and for all.’

Dorian didn’t mince his words in response, Cadan’s twist of despair all too evident.

‘Physically she is fine. Mentally, I am sure she will be fine. You know I am no healer, but Morrigan called it correctly when she said Lea was beyond exhausted and simply needs to recover. She’d not recovered fully from the torture Samson and Imshael meted out to her before she launched herself back into the war – and then nearly died all over again bringing Cullen back. You add to that the mad dash to Val Royeaux to save Blackwall’s from the hangman’s noose? We’d agreed we had to protect her from Corypheus for as long as possible to prevent exactly this scenario from happening, to give her time to regain her strength. We didn’t, however, anticipate _this_.’

With a low grow Cadan jumped up, prowling round the tiny space of the cabin in agitation.

‘I should have been there! Every fucking time, I fail her –.‘

‘Why do you always do your sister such a disservice? Over and again, Lea has proven herself more than capable.’ Alistair’s blunt rebuke was enough to make Cadan halt his tracks. ‘Fortunately enough for the rest of us, given the best we could have done was tickle him to death. What would you have done, danced in front of Corypheus then chucked a dagger for luck? The bastard had no meat on him for one of your blades to stick, if nothing else. Lea doesn’t need you charging in to save her, demeaning her and all her rather formidable talents in the process.’

Varric was never sure why, after knowing the King of Ferelden for so long, how taken aback he always was by the astuteness Alistair went to great lengths to hide. He’d neatly addressed some of Lea’s fundamental issues in one pertinent sentence, leaving her twin momentarily speechless as he blinked at his liege lord.

‘We were lured to such a precise spot by that darkspawn lunatic, Cadan, and nothing you could have done would have prevented it. Besides, the matter is a moot point. Varric and I watched him being forced back into the Fade by our redoubtable Inquisitor and from that, I can promise you, there will be no return. Corypheus is dead and Lea needs rest – plenty of it. The problem is, of course, that it has not ended there. What we don’t know is how this new….situation is affecting her recovery. Are you going to sit down and join us in establishing how we resolve this latest disaster?’

Dorian’s precise summing up of the Inquisitor’s current predicament left little room for Cadan to argue, taking his place at the table once more with a sigh of frustration and gesturing for them to continue.

‘So that’s Lea. For now, at least, she is safe which is the main priority.’ Alistair looked at Varric and Dorian, determined to find answers none of them had. ‘What of Cullen? You don’t need me to tell you that this is completely out of character for him. He is my oldest friend and I guarantee he does absolutely nothing without a bloody good reason.’

‘You don’t need to convince us, Alistair.’ Varric leant back, considering the other, more sinister part of the sorry tale. ‘Of Cullen – there is no sign. He’s vanished. I went over his quarters and office myself. There’s nothing at all to indicate anything amiss, no correspondence and all his belongings in one place. No corpse either, for that matter, which means he’s still alive. The question is, why would he leave?’

‘Not just Cullen,’ Dorian interrupted. ‘Solas too, don’t forget. Both of them, gone. I am sure they are still with us somewhere in Thedas, but as to where, is anyone’s guess. There was always far more to Solas than he let on. He used magic unlike anything I’ve seen even in Tevinter to heal them both after Samson’s attack.’

‘Cullen is vital to Lea’s survival, as I understand? I mean beyond the usual broken hearts story.’ Alistair queried. ‘If I have to prioritise the two in this search, then it would be Cullen. Even though Solas has saved her life on more than one occasion. Cadan has some further intelligence on elven activity which we will discuss with Leliana and the others at Skyhold. For now, we need to focus on Cullen. If something happens to him, something happens to her and I will not accept that he’s decided to go on a jolly somewhere and told no one about it. Something very sinister is in play.’

‘Well, there’s not much we can do about it whilst we’re at sea so we may as well drink,’ Dorian replied heavily, sloshing more amber liquid into the now empty glasses. ‘Three days didn’t you say, Cadan?’

‘Yes, then we will put shore somewhere on the Orlesian side of Jader,’ Cadan affirmed as he looked across to a map of the Ferelden coastline on the wall. ‘It’s enough to totally throw everyone off the scent. Eamon and Tegan have been given powers of Regency whilst Alistair is away. Conveniently Josephine had already adjourned the peace talks in light of Corypheus’ defeat so there should be few eyes on us. The cove we’ll disembark at will have what we need to make it to Skyhold overland the remainder of the way. You’ll have to remain in disguise, however, Alistair.’

‘My old Grey Warden armour should do the trick, along with some hair dye and my visor down. People never look beyond what they want to see, after all, and I don’t anticipate we’ll be at Skyhold long enough for me to get comfortable.’ For all that Alistair was clearly concerned about his two friends, Varric sensed the underlying restlessness to embark on his ultimate reason he’d agreed to leave. ‘Once Lea regains consciousness, then we’ll see about a grand unveiling.’

‘How much time can you give us, Alistair?’ Varric asked quietly, not sure how keen he’d be on the reply.

‘I fear we are looking at one rather large piece of a very complicated puzzle,’ Alistair replied contemplatively. ‘Cullen mentioned that Lea had given him a warning prior to Corypheus’ demise didn’t she? Then we have these earthquakes in the Storm Coast, the unrest across Tevinter combined with both city elves and the Dalish suddenly on the move. Word out of Par Vollen is hinting at something big. Not to mention the lack of information from Weisshaupt and Hawke’s unusual silence, which is where Ranier’s assistance will come invaluable. Solas’ disappearance is, I grant you, strange given how close he was to Lea.’

A shadow then crossed Alistair’s face. The abiding friendship he had with both Lea and Cullen was as nothing to his real motivation for taking action. A motive none of them could find fault with.

‘In the grand scheme of things, it is all connected – I find it hard to believe otherwise. I’m frightened out of my wits, truth be honest, that Freya and her quest are somehow caught up in all of this – the red lyrium, the Taint? It’s all too convenient. The darkspawn song has calmed since your victory at Adamant, yet I – our time may be near and I promised her that we would face the Calling together. After our years of service and sacrifice, that little we deserve at least. For as long as our quests align, and I believe it to be in the interests of the realm as well as for me personally, I will be with you. As I indicated to Leliana, you have my full support. If my search for my Warden takes me in an alternative direction, however, I must follow that path. For as long as you need, Cadan – you are released from my service.’

Alistair paused, for once uncharacteristically sombre, the implications of his fatalistic statement not lost on any of them. The abiding love he’d always held for his Warden had always been at odds with the weighty duties of the Crown. Not once had he ever complained, accepting his burdens without question and developing into an admired strong leader – a feat no one had foreseen, much to many people’s delight, and to the chagrin of a sour few.

_Especially with that talent to win over a room with a combination of humour and humility._

_Anora, you never stood a chance. Respect would never have been enough – the people have to love you too. Humble is definitely not a word that you comprehend the true meaning of._

‘That, my friends, is in the future.’ The easy charm that had won over a nation broken and bruised from decades of war was back, Alistair determined to banish the shadows that had descended in the muted light of the small cabin. ‘I feel alive, in a way I haven’t done so since Freya left, and far more in control now I’m not playing at being a king. If I’m going to go, then this is how I want to get there. I owe you, Cadan, for busting me out. Eamon’s wrath is going to be something to behold. I’m almost sorry I won’t be there to laugh at his expression when he sees the note.’

‘Thank you, Alistair. I think, however, neither you or Freya have one foot in the grave quite yet. No excuse for slacking off now.’ Cadan’s barely controlled anxiety over the state of his nearest and dearest was met with his usual sardonic façade, fighting to hide how affected he was by Alistair’s frank admission.

‘Too bloody right,’ Varric echoed, unable to equate the reality all Wardens had to face at some point with the rude health Alistair displayed. ‘Besides, I really wouldn’t recommend the Deep Roads as a tourist spot. There’s some dubious liquour they make out of the moss that grows down there which will burn holes through that fancy plate of yours. The locals aren’t what I’d call the partying type either.’

‘Then that does it. I am in dire need of some luxury, especially after that swill you forced down me just now!’ Dorian exclaimed with mock indignation, relaxing back in his chair and resting his feet on the table. ‘I thought I was the dramatic one, Alistair. How fortunate for us all that your imminent demise is not quite so advanced as you’d like to believe. I do think there will be time to get some culture into you before you head off to meet the Maker.’

‘Culture?’ Alistair retorted lightly even as they all automatically looked up at the map on the wall, the reminder of what lay ahead never far from any of their thoughts. ‘If by that you mean some Maker-forsaken warbling by a terrible Orlesian poet I’ll pass. Unless they at least give me a hint of where to search – I’ll suffer their pantaloons and perfumes in exchange for a lead if I have to.’

‘It really is your lucky day. On both points, I can help.’

Dorian reached over to steal a knife from Cadan’s belt, his languid throw landing the steel point squarely in the centre of Tevinter. The solid thump of metal into wood on the far side of the cabin left them silent as they all stared back at him in surprise. Dorian swept them all with a beaming smile, laughing openly at Varric’s narrowed glare.

‘What did you hide from me Dorian?’ If there was another thing Varric hated, it was a mystery he hadn’t solved. ‘Tevinter holds more secrets than all the brothels in southern Thedas combined.’

‘No need to look so gloomy because of my superior intelligence. Albeit somewhat limited in this case. It has at least, shown us that one niggling loose end takes us right to the birthplace of civilisation. There is hope for you yet my dear King Alistair, but you’d best be careful. All that towering, barbarian ruggedness of yours will be the most tempting bait to the beautiful snakes slithering over the marble halls of the Archon’s court.’

‘That’s what Cadan’s coming along for. The perfect foil to my Ferelden manliness and he’s far prettier, especially when he bats those long eyelashes of his…..’

Varric sat back as the other three continued to trade banter to pass the long hours of travel and forget, just for a time, what lay before them. There was still a major thorn in his side that irritated him beyond measure. Thanks to Dorian’s connections which ran at levels even Varric and Leliana couldn’t access, they finally had the lead they were looking for.

Gazing thoughtfully at the dagger glinting in the candlelight, he couldn’t prevent the spectre of premonition looming over him all over again – something he’d never managed to shake the moment he’d lugged that wretched red lyrium idol from the thaig. This particular loose end Dorian had referred to was one that he’d regret miscalculating to the end of his days. Varric had made the cardinal sin of underestimating an opponent before and he was damned if that was going to happen again. If there was one thing he could do to repay Lea for all she’d done for him, it was tidy things up for good.

Varric had no choice. The slow, steady drip of sand from the timer imprinted in his mind was rapidly draining. If they didn’t act, now, she would die.

_Not in any of my stories._

_It’s payback time._

\------

‘Tevinter? You’re sure? How is that possible?’

‘After all we’ve lived through? I would have thought that would show you that anything is, indeed, possible.’

‘Not to mention logical, practical and actually, somewhere that may have the answers we seek. Why now, though? Why not before?’

‘Because there’s a method to her madness? This is one woman who always has a plan, don’t forget.’

Cassandra cast a worried frown at the frustrated note in Leliana’s voice. Uncertainty was not something she associated with her old friend. That Leliana was wading in murky water was hardly new. Any misstep would result in a cost was far higher than any of them were prepared to pay, and the strain was beginning to show.

It was surreal, she mused, to be pacing the private quarters of the Inquisitor herself with no sign of the woman in question returning to the present any time soon. Cassandra felt as if she was stuck in a time warp, reliving a recurring nightmare where Lea had fought one battle too many on the behalf of Thedas, never to return again. This particular scenario, with Lea lying motionless in the massive bed on the other side of the room with Cullen snatched away, was one Cassandra could never have predicted. 

On the surface, nothing seemed different. The fire was roaring, the yellow flames throwing light into the black of the midwinter night, the few candles flickering on either side of the room doing little to illuminate the darkness. The Inquisitor herself was unconscious and barely visible under a pile of thick blankets. Lea’s mahogany desk was piled high with half-read scrolls, open books and littered with Inquisition correspondence, the small table and chair next to the bed bearing signs of Cullen’s more organised method of working. A neat stack of reports, along with a quill, ink and a half-written order for a supply shipment to the Emprise du Lion were left in clear view, as if the Commander would return any moment to take up the vigil by his Inquisitor’s side.

With a hiss that covered her devastation, Cassandra spun away, the fury that surged through her at the helplessness of their situation adding to her rage. Only the deep baritone of Trystan’s voice warmed her, the reassuring press of his palm in the small of her back comforting her further. In spite of the turmoil and the dire circumstances they faced, his steady presence soothed Cassandra as nothing else could.

_How does he remain so calm?_

_Especially when I have no solutions to cure his underlying distress._

Trystan’s fear for his best friend’s welfare was only dwarfed by the mindless terror for his sister. Only the fact that he was now responsible for Lea’s safety and the command of tens of thousands of troops prevented him from flying apart at the seams. His dogged determination to ensure her survival had never faltered through the years, Trystan having not left Lea’s side the moment they’d become aware of Cullen’s disappearance – a scenario so unthinkable the truth still now shook the Inquisition to its foundations.

As she turned to face him, Cassandra’s concerns multiplied to see his gaunt, drawn face and shadowed bruises beneath his eyes. Trystan shared his younger sister’s translucent skin, the masculine beauty of her poet made all the more startlingly handsome with the rumple of black hair falling over one brow and indigo eyes that usually brimmed with merriment and good cheer. All she could see now was the struggle that she’d prayed he’d found some closure for, instead ripping Trystan apart.

Uselessness was not an adjective that sat well with the three of them, among the most powerful figures and renowned fighters in Thedas.

_For all the good that does us right now, except chain us into place!_

_Don’t make this all be for naught, dwarf…._

‘True enough.’ Cassandra refocused on Leliana’s words, their spymaster staring hard at the report in her hand. ‘Freya is looking for a cure for the Blight and that began with the Tevinter magisters. It makes sense that Alistair would include a sweep of their libraries as part of his search. We have not heard from her in many, many months and she has travelled beyond all charted territory so it’s not as if I can simply send a courier any more. Ferelden needs its king and we need to know how to end the pestilence of darkspawn. It is fortunate that his goals align with ours.’

‘We need his assistance.’ Trystan was firm as he stood, the shadows dancing across the room adding to his harsh demeanour. ‘Whether Alistair likes it or not, he has knowledge that could turn the tide. He might be a king, but my sister saved his kingdom from a hideous fate when no one else could – she still will have to close the rifts that plague the land. He owes us. I will not see either of them die.’

‘I don’t think you’ll need to threaten him, Trystan,’ Leliana replied, flicking through the papers in her hand. ‘Alistair loves her too, you know. Lea was the sister he never had, and Cullen is one of his oldest friends. Plus, Freya would never forgive him if anything happened to either of them and Alistair could have helped.’

‘You’re right,’ Trystan said quietly, walking across to his sister’s immobile form. ‘I wish there was more I could do. Sitting around doesn’t work for me. Not when there is so much danger. There must have been something I could have – .’

‘No.’ Cassandra wound his fingers between hers as she led him back to the fire. ‘Come and sit here – you’re exhausted and freezing. There is nothing you could have done. We had no warning, no indication that anything was amiss with Cullen. People do not just vanish into thin air. Do not forget our purpose. We will find out what happened and we will punish those responsible, and we will bring Cullen and Freya home.’

Trystan nodded, sinking back down into the armchair, unthinkingly sipping the tea that Leliana had just poured. His grimace as the brew hit his tongue made them all laugh, a lighter moment in an otherwise circular conversation with seemingly no end.

Cassandra had never seen any of the Inquisition’s men drink tea, aside from Solas.

_Which reminds me…_

‘Is there any word on Solas?’ Cassandra queried although she already expected Leliana’s shake of the head.

‘None. My scouts have many reports of elves on the move across Thedas, a notable event in itself, but as to what their motive is I have yet to determine. I’ve noticed a rise in elves joining the Inquisition too, even though our fight with Corypheus is done. When Cadan is here I’ll do another sweep through the ranks for spies. The world is no less stable then it was before Lea put an end to the magister. If anything, the situation seems to be even more volatile.’

‘There is no end is there?’ Trystan shook his head in resignation. ‘Lea is going to be disappointed when she wakes up. The Inquisition can’t fold. The power plays in Orlais show no sign of resolution and Gaspard is struggling to control his nobles. I received reports that Par Vollen and Tevinter have resumed hostilities once more, and that Par Vollen has been experimenting – on what I have no idea. Just a rumour, mind, nothing substantial but enough to give me pause. Ferelden squabbles over the succession and the Avvar decide now’s the time to resurrect a spirit masquerading as a god. Who’s expected to fix it all? Why, the Inquisition, of course. Lea is missing two of her most trusted companions in Ranier and Solas, not to mention her Commander. Where in the Maker’s name is he! I am missing something here!’

Trystan growled with rage as his anger spiked once more, his fists balled as he started to prowl around Lea’s chambers. Leliana rested her reports in her lap, meeting Cassandra’s eye as she shook her head silently in return. It would serve no purpose to cajole him into a better mood. Not when both of them felt just as impotent.

‘We must focus on what we do know.’ Leliana rose, moving markers on the makeshift map of Thedas set out on Lea’s dining table. ‘Lea is merely resting, nothing more sinister. Solas is gone but Morrigan has as much skill as he did in healing. She will be fine, Trystan – it is just a matter of allowing her space to recover mentally as well as physically. As long as she is alive, we know that Cullen is alive too, don’t forget.’

‘Quite so,’ Cassandra scowled down at the marker denoting Isabela’s privateer. ‘We have Alistair, Varric, Dorian and Cadan landed safely in Jader. They will be here in two days. That is definite progress. Lea has shown signs of stirring, didn’t you say?’

‘Yes,’ Trystan said grudgingly, ‘she has. When she wakes it is for longer periods, although she’s still not lucid. She is sleeping I think, now, rather than avoiding wakening because of the trauma she’s experienced.’

‘Then once we have Lea back we can make a plan. Very good,’ Leliana agreed distractedly, her eyes fixed on a particular spot on the map. ‘I can stay with you for a couple of months but I cannot delay much longer. You will have Cadan to assist with the handover to my successor. As Divine, I will have more reach and can support this search – Maker save me, is that it?’

‘Is what what?’

Trystan and Cassandra joined Leliana at the map, Cassandra confused by the abrupt change in the Inquisition’s former spymaster. She’d gone from composed to excited and, strangely enough, furious in a split second, leaving the other two struggling to understand her sudden agitation. She grabbed a bronze marker from the side, blood red in the firelight. Two more heavy silver eagles denoting the Inquisition’s forces in Orlais were then realigned along an alternative route out of Skyhold.

‘We’ve searched this route, repeatedly. What is the difference in pattern you’ve seen this time?’ Trystan rubbed his tired eyes, trying to see what had caught Leliana’s attention.

‘We did search this route, but did we ask the right questions?’ The gleam in Leliana’s eyes intensified. ‘The question is not so much why, but who.’

‘I can’t deal with anything less than direct conversation.’ Trystan’s usual impeccable manners were wiped out under the dual pressures of exhaustion and anxiety. ‘Just spit it out, Leliana.’

‘Humor me, Knight-Commander. Let’s run through the evidence once more. The last person to see Cullen was Rylen, to go through the regular troop rotation for the Inquisition’s keeps. Run of the mill stuff. Four hours after that, Trystan arrives to give Cullen a break, to discover the Commander is not in the room. For Cullen to leave Lea unattended when she’s this vulnerable is unthinkable, so Trystan raises the alarm. Nothing else, however, is amiss. The magical seals Dorian and Keram set over Lea’s door haven’t been disturbed and match their signatures. Lea’s seals over her trap door haven’t been altered either.’

Leliana paused, her eyes flickering back to Cullen’s table, then to the heavy oak door of the Inquisitor’s quarters. Cassandra felt her frustration morph into the first glimmer of hope she’d felt since she’d been shaken rudely awake by a frantic Cole all those long weeks ago.

‘There was no sign of Cullen anywhere in, or out, of Skyhold. We searched his quarters, here, the barracks, everywhere for a clue. All the entrances and exits out of this place, including our escape route – not even the slightest twig out of place or a stray footprint in the snow. It literally was as if our Commander had vanished into thin air, with no reason or rhyme as to why, nor what would have compelled him to leave Lea in the first place.’

‘So, what’s your point?’ Trystan asked, running both hands through his hair in a rare gesture of irritation. ‘We know all of this. Cullen disappeared leaving us with nothing.’

‘Ah, but that’s where we’ve been going wrong.’ Leliana’s lips curved in a slight smile. ‘Nothing tells us everything.’

The tiny hope in Cassandra’s heart was quickly crushed by the foreboding that followed straight behind. For a fleeting moment, oppression swamped her, Cassandra shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she tried to focus on breathing normally. The bronze marker appeared to burn with a red fire as Leliana turned it over and over in her fingers, an ominous portent that Cassandra couldn’t dismiss, no matter how much she chided herself for such fanciful thinking.

‘We’ve been so focussed on the search for someone spiriting Cullen away we’ve missed the most obvious clue haven’t we?’ It was so obvious Cassandra was furious with herself for not seeing it sooner. ‘Enlighten us though, Leliana. This is your area of expertise after all.’

‘I need a stiff drink to get me through the next few hours.’ Trystan had drunk more in the last few weeks than Cassandra had seen in the whole year, ignoring her worried frown as he reached for the brandy bottle. ‘Don’t lecture me Cass. I know my limits, I promise.’

Trystan’s tired, quick smile took the sting from his words as Cassandra reached for the glass, deciding that getting drunk might not be such a bad idea after all. Anything to get rid of the claustrophobia that was crushing down on her chest. Awareness was dawning, and it was not a welcome realisation.

At all.

‘He can avoid detection like the best of us. Think. We were working on the assumption Cullen was abducted, not because Cullen has suddenly crumbled and feels unworthy of her love or any such nonsense.’ Leliana’s smile was cold, the ruthless bard visible for a brief second. ‘He has deliberately wiped his path clean so we can’t track him. This is Cullen’s way of leaving us a message.’

‘There is only one reason he would leave.’ Trystan’s alert gaze strayed to his sleeping sister, assuring himself that no demon was about to rise out of the ground to swallow her whole. ‘Because he believes her life is more in danger if he stays. He’s trying to save her somehow. It’s not just Lea’s life that hangs in the balance. This additional threat must have been so severe he felt he could better serve her if he left. Therefore, Cullen does not _want_ to be found.’

‘Which leaves one question. What is the threat that was of such magnitude, it drove Cullen to leave Lea rather than stay with her?’

Leliana’s quiet words were at odds with the unseen, menacing threat finally exposed from her blunt statement. Her assessment, much though Cassandra hated to admit it, was accurate. They had spent so much time focussed on the search, convinced that someone had whipped Cullen away from under the Inquisition’s noses that they hadn’t even stopped to consider he’d left of his own free will.

‘Albeit unwillingly,’ Cassandra muttered as she finished her thought out loud. Her eyes strayed to the bronze marker that Leliana had set firmly on the yellowing parchment on the Orlesian and Tevinter borders. ‘That’s an understatement. We have been looking at this latest crisis back to front, haven’t we?’

‘Correct.’ Leliana stood back, her arms crossed. ‘Let us assess what we do know. Corypheus is dead. Lea is slowly recovering, but her progress is slow. Whether this is linked to the forced separation from Cullen we cannot say. Cullen has disappeared, we assumed abducted but perhaps not –.‘

‘He left willingly, Leliana. Of this, there is no doubt – because he felt he had no choice. I have witnessed the burdens he bore for my sister, all of which he suffered without complaint.’ Trystan was distant as he stared into the embers of the fire, recalling a battle that had tested Lea and those closest to her beyond mortal endurance. ‘Cullen left because he believed it was the best thing to do – possibly the only thing he could do.’

‘Cullen has asked repeatedly for me to intervene should his leadership abilities come into question.’ It was Cassandra’s turn to pace the room as she stood, filled with nervous energy. ‘Is this linked to his lyrium withdrawal? He seemed elated after Corypheus was gone, as far away from his past as I’ve ever seen him. He was, dare I say it, excited! Who has ever seen Cullen display such enthusiasm, even when Lea was out of it? Such anticipation went well beyond our victory over Coryepheus. I refuse to accept that the Commander had suddenly slipped backwards so drastically. Maker, how are we supposed to make sense of this all?’

‘He left of his own accord. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of anything amiss. We have established that one fact now, which at least sees a significant piece of the puzzle fall into place.’ Leliana’s eyes drifted back to the weighty bronze marker, flaring brighter than the pulsing columns of red lyrium in Cassandra’s nightmares. ‘That leads us to the question of who has such powers of persuasion, beyond the Inquisitor herself. And once we identify the who, that will lead us to the why.’

‘You’re talking in a giant circle, Leliana. We’ve eliminated all lines of enquiry in that regard. What’s the point of this conversation?’ Trystan’s legendary patience was still nowhere in sight. ‘Cullen’s siblings have been contact, to no avail. Our former colleagues are all with the Inquisition or dead. Outside of the Order, Cullen had nothing, just the way the Chantry intended.’

‘It’s not to do with Cullen. We have been searching in the wrong place. Or, more specifically, the wrong people.’

Cassandra stopped, dread clawing her stomach as yet again, the obvious hit her squarely in the chest. They’d been so busy chasing after Cullen’s supposed enemies they’d forgotten to what would hurt him and Lea the most. She just hoped that their blindness wouldn’t have lost them precious time.

‘It’s about Lea. Isn’t it, Leliana?’ She looked questioningly at Leliana, her heart sinking at the confirmation she saw there. ‘That someone wanted to strike at the Inquisition we knew. We all have enemies, Lea in particular. But who would stand to gain? Certainly not Alistair, on his way to us as we speak, and Gaspard owes his power to the Inquisition. Lea is still the only person in Thedas who can close rifts…….oh, holy Andraste….’

‘It’s not just about the Inquisition, is it?’ Trystan’s deadly soft voice sent chills down Cassandra’s spine. ‘It’s a power game, beyond anything that we’ve faced before. But it’s also personal. Who has command of such resources, to pull off such a gamble?’

‘That we will establish once my scouts return from Tevinter, I am sure of it. In the meantime, we have unpicked a clue that the mastermind behind this would not have expected us to learn so soon.’ Leliana looked triumphant, despite the severity of the mess they found themselves in. ‘It’s interconnected somehow to the ripples of unrest through the Tevinter empire, to the discontent across the populace in Orlais, to the denouncements of the Qun on our way of life, to the darkspawn who will never cease to be a threat to Thedas for as long as the Blight remains to plague us. Yet somewhere down the line, someone’s made it about Lea.’

Cassandra walked slowly over to Lea’s bedside, leaving Trystan and Leliana to debate the possibilities. She felt little inclination to join in an exercise that was designed to redress the futility they all carried, talk currently the only positive action available to them. It was useful to gain a kernel of understanding of what they faced, albeit doing nothing more than add to the desperate confusion that left them running blind. It also didn’t alter the reality of the tense situation across Thedas which was close to boiling over.

_Will she accept that, though? She never did before._

_Cullen always came first. But this time, she may have to make the ultimate sacrifice._

She looked down at the sleeping form of Lea’s slender body, a muted green glow under her left palm as unchanging as Lea’s condition since Cullen had carried her, yet again, across the Frostbacks to safety. Her platinum-blonde hair was caught away from her face in a loose plait draped over one shoulder, the delicate structure of her features relaxed in slumber. The silvery scars depicting Samson’s torture along her jawline were just visible in the darkness of night, while the fine arch of Lea’s eyebrows were marred in a slight frown, a clear sign that, even in such deep sleep, the monsters that stalked her never let her be.

‘We still need you, my friend. I am sorry.’ Cassandra couldn’t hide her regret as she sighed, sitting down heavily in Cullen’s armchair. ‘You never asked for this life and I will live with the decision to bring you forth to such prominence for the rest of my days. If I’d known the ramifications…..but talk is pointless. What’s done is done and you are who you are. For Cullen, if no one else, you must awaken, and awaken soon. Leave the dungeon you have chained yourself to and rejoin us. Please. We love you too.’

She wasn’t sure what to expect from her heartfelt little speech to her friend, but if Cassandra had felt a spark of hope that Lea might awaken, she was doomed to disappointment. Lea didn’t stir.

Shattered, Cassandra sat back, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths in an effort to remain calm. Corypheus’ passing may as well not have even taken place given the furor around the Inquisitor’s disappearing act. Chaos still rampaged all around them. Now, with the eyes of all Thedas upon them, expecting the Inquisition clear up the mess of humanity, there was never a time when Lea’s presence was more imperative. Whether she liked it or not, her responsibilities were far from over.

With the disappearance of Solas and Cullen, and the fragmentation of Lea’s companions, the mantle fell to Cassandra and the ones remaining to pick up the pieces. That Lea would want to chase after Cullen, even with nothing to go on, was not in question. Whether it was exactly what their unseen enemy wanted was what worried Cassandra the most. Whoever had cast the dice clearly intended for disruption on a global scale, placing Lea and Cullen squarely at the heart of their attack.

_Wake up, Lea! We’re out of time!_

_The Inquisitor is, yet again, in demand._


	3. A Rude Awakening

‘Cullen!’ Lea was, by this point, giggling hysterically as she finally escaped the hard, muscular body lightly pinning her down. ‘That is….oh Maker…..stop tickling me! I can’t…..aaa!’

She scrambled across the other side of the bed, pushing unruly strands of hair out of her eyes, her heart singing as she caught sight of Cullen’s mischievous grin and the gleam of a white-gold ring on his fourth finger. It was, at long last, just the two of them, with no distractions and no earth-shattering demands on their time. The doctrines of the Chantry belonged to a different life, the insurmountable barriers between mages and Templars systematically destroyed. The Inquisitor and her Commander had set the standard, Lea justifiably proud of their efforts to build bridges between two such fractured groups.

The conflict and the betrayals, the judgements and the demands were long gone. Life consisted simply of Cullen and Lea and their little cottage in Ostwick, learning how to live and love as a normal couple. The madness of the never-ending years leading the Inquisition were nothing more than a fading nightmare.

‘What’s the problem? I was giving you a massage!’ Cullen protested, in one swift movement closing the gap between them, stealing a heated kiss that left Lea breathless from its passionate intensity. ‘I am going to do nice things for my wife whether you like it or not, my lady. Unless you don’t want back rubs anymore.’

‘That was far more than a mere back rub, husband of mine, and you know it. My husband. Merciful Andraste, I love how that sounds.’ Lea caught his right hand, closely examining fingers work-worn from decades of dedicated service and pressed her lips lovingly onto each tip. ‘These magic hands of yours seemed to sneak over my ribs one too many times for comfort. They’re also a part of you which means I will adore them forever.’

_Never again will you go through such torture._

_You, of all people, deserve to be free._

She flopped back on the downy pillows with a contented sigh, luxuriating in the weight of Cullen’s leg draped heavily over hers, the hairs of his chest tickling her stomach as he rested his head on her chest. He kissed her belly and gave her a smile so devastating Lea’s heart skipped several beats, stunned into amazement that such a beautiful man had agreed to be with her till death did them both apart. Not that it took the private ceremony in Skyhold’s chapel to tell her that. Lea would have died for Cullen a thousand times over the moment she’d set eyes on him so long ago in the chaos the Temple of Sacred Ashes represented. Some things were preordained, after all, and who was she to interfere with the Maker’s will?

It was just the two of them in their secluded paradise, Lea sated and happy beyond her wildest dreams. The languid yet electric lovemaking they’d indulged in earlier had left her exhausted, dozing off in the security of Cullen’s protective embrace. It was the same pattern they’d shared for a month now and Lea had no intention of altering a thing.

Somehow they’d made it through the craziness of the war and survived, their enemies vanquished and dead. Lea had left the Inquisition without a backward glance, more than ready to be done with an ungrateful Thedas who couldn’t have cared less about achieving a harmonious balance. The peace of Ostwick awaited them both, her secret bolthole a refuge once more as they recovered from the ravages that a lifetime of duty and servitude had pressed onto them both.

The doors were flung wide open, the sea breeze cooling her skin against the heat of the afternoon. The lull of the waves and calling of seagulls added to the relaxed atmosphere both of them so badly needed after the hideous months of trauma and separation that had nearly killed them.

‘Can you believe this is us? At long last? I thought we’d never escape all that dreary diplomacy rubbish that Josephine insisted was so necessary. But it was only….’

She broke off from her sentence without warning, a burning ache shooting through her left hand as the alien magic of the Anchor flared into life. Tears of agony welled automatically in Lea’s eyes as a thousand knives stabbed all the way up her arm, ending in a blinding pain in her brain. Cullen’s concerned face swam before her vision, Lea squeezing her eyelids shut as she fought to regulate her shuddering breaths. Nausea churned in her stomach as bile rose up her throat, Lea clasping her arms round her stomach uselessly in an attempt to prevent the green lightening sparking from her palm.

‘Leaena! It’s going to be alright. Remember to breathe, my love, and give me your right hand. Here…..’

Cullen’s calm voice, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingertips on her scalp, usually had the desired effect. Her Mark had, over the last week become increasingly erratic, with irregular energy surges that left her shaken and drained. All it normally took was for her to steady her breathing and focus very hard on the present, combined with the woody citrus smell of her husband to bring the magic back within her limits.

‘Maker, Leaena – my love….come back!’ Cullen’s deep toffee-whiskey voice was filled with alarm as Lea’s vision blurred, his precious face swimming before her eyes as the world became tinted with green.

‘Cullen!’ Lea shouted, frantic as the pain in her arm and head intensified, her body suddenly engulfed in a blaze of green fire. ‘I can’t stop it! Save me, please, don’t leave me! What is going on?’

Frantically she reached out for the security of the cobalt in his soul to pull herself back, only to scream in terror and confusion as she recoiled in horror from the shell of a man in front of her.

_He’s not there…._

_He never was there. This was never real!_

‘What are you?’ She was hysterical, terrified as she shied away from Cullen’s imploring gaze, already dissolving into the black fog. ‘You’re not there, you’re not you….oh Cullen, where have you gone? Why did you leave me?’

The dramatic shift from serenity to insanity left Lea in a mindless panic, the false world she’d so painstakingly constructed shattered in one thought. Cullen and Ostwick didn’t exist, but the damage to her arm was more than real. Her whole body was on fire, her left arm in particular so sore she thought she was about to faint. Even so, it was as nothing to the anguish that tore her soul in two, the cobalt that had resided next to the essence of her magic in such harmony dissipated into nothingness.

A murky green mist suffocated her as she collapsed to her knees. Lea was sobbing in her fear and devastation, the pain caused by her Mark as nothing to the utter desolation that wracked every fibre of her being. She was empty and lost, her soulmate gone away as surely as he’d died. She was trapped in her own mind, refusing to wake up and face reality and instead, playing out the vision of a future that could have been.

_But for my foolish recklessness!_

‘I don’t care. Without Cullen, there is nothing,’ Lea shouted into the wilderness of the Fade as she willed herself back into her alternate universe. ‘What are you waiting for, oh Maker almighty? Come and take me, dammit, and steal another soul into your false paradise! You stole everything, leaving me with nothing to live for. Empty dreams are all that you deemed fit to leave me with, even after all I’ve achieved in Your name!’

‘I am sorry to hear of your dissatisfaction. Although, this is not the fighting spirit I discovered you possess, Inquisitor.’

Lea blinked in confusion before crying out, her left hand igniting the world around her with an eerie emerald light. Her left arm felt as if she’d thrust it into Skyhold’s forge, her tears now of physical anguish as well as the torment that refused to leave her be. The voice was one she’d not expected to hear, although given where she’d ended up, she wasn’t all that surprised.

‘Solas? Solas! Why are you here?’ Lea gasped as the flames were extinguished as abruptly as they’d begun, the pain abruptly non-existent. ‘How the fuck did that just happen?’

‘It’s not like you to wallow, da’len, nor back down from a challenge.’

Solas was relaxed as he came to sit opposite her. The mists cleared and the familiar surroundings of Skyhold’s gardens and a game of chess halfway in play caught Lea off guard. She wiped her face with an absent swipe of her sleeve cuff, clenching her fists and closing her eyes in a vain attempt at warding off the brutal anguish that dominated every thought. Here was Cullen’s favourite game, the set she’d bought him as a special gift for on Satinalia on display, everything in front of her in the same position as they’d been before they’d dashed off to Val Royeaux to save Blackwall from himself. Solas and Cullen had never had the chance to complete this match, one which Varric had long ago stopped taking bets on.

‘Because some battles always ends in stalemate,’ she said softly. ‘There are no winners. The Chantry taught me that truth at least. Corypheus is dead, Cullen is gone and I am biding my time until I can join him.’

Lea didn’t care if she was being rude to her old friend. She’d managed to escape into the sanctuary the Fade offered, providing her with just the right tool to manipulate her imagination into a fake reality she’d no intention of leaving. There was no world for her without Cullen in it. She’d found that out the hard way.

‘Why are you hiding here, Lea?’ Solas was gentle as he watched her, his eyes glowing with an eerie silver light that Lea had never seen before. ‘You know you cannot live in the Fade forever, replaying what might have been. It’s a seductive temptation I know all too well. But you have to face up to the real world and shoulder your responsibilities – and before it’s too late.’

‘Of course I can stay here,’ she retorted angrily, refusing to listen. ‘I have no intention of waking and you cannot make me.’

‘Can’t I?’ Solas looked amused as Lea’s discomfort sharpened, all too aware that her former companion was far more powerful than he’d ever fully revealed to her – yet another disturbing fact she’d conveniently ignored. ‘I had to nudge you out of your delusion, Lea. I would rather not have to force you back to your body.’

‘You…the Mark…that was you? What in the Maker’s name are you?’ Lea suppressed another wave of hysteria as she jumped up, anger at Solas’ manipulation as nothing to the rage she directed at herself. ‘Actually, you know what? I don’t care. Corypheus is no more, the Breach is closed and the world will keep turning without me! Just fuck off already and leave me alone!’

‘You know it is never that simple, falon.’ Solas frowned at the board before his expression brightened, moving a Chevalier to take one of Cullen’s Castles. ‘He won’t have seen that coming. I may have him this time.’

‘What is the point in this? Cullen is dead! I failed him, time and time again, but this time I truly did it, didn’t I? You’re all saved, but we paid the ultimate price – no, Cullen paid the ultimate price. I was not strong enough, in the end, was I?’

There. She’d said it aloud, those fateful words. The main reason she’d refused to awaken, reliving fantasies of what could have been. Her heart was crushed in her chest, a massive force bearing down on her limbs. All the light had vanished from her life and she had no idea how to handle even the simplest thing.

_Aside from dying right alongside him._

‘I can’t live without him.’ Lea’s shoulders drooped, the rage gone as she stared at her scuffed boots, doing her best to will herself out of existence. ‘Please, I can’t deal with this….please leave me….’

She was waiting to die, refusing to leave, finding small crumbs of comfort as she spun ending after alternate happy ending from her now seemingly limitless magic. Lea thought she had no tears left to cry, but it seemed not. Rivers held less water than the oceans she’d wept as she’d drifted aimlessly through the Fade, broken and bewildered with the loss of the man who meant more to her than mere words could ever convey.

A sharp jab up her arm bought the garden back into focus, Lea staring at Solas in consternation, and a dawning fear for what was about to come.

‘Lea, you must listen.’ Solas was urgent, the chess game forgotten. ‘Cullen is not dead. You have been tricked.’

Incredulous hope blossomed in Lea’s heart, only to be dismissed by dual spikes of suspicion and paranoia.

‘Who sent you, demon?’ she hissed furiously, gathering her magic as she prepared to strike. ‘You must think I am fucking stupid, just like that whore of a desire demon before who tried to persuade me of the same lie. I ran her out of my mind just as I will do you. Begone and go harass someone else!’

‘I am no demon, although by the time this is over you may believe otherwise. I have to do this, I am sorry.’ Sorrow was dark in Solas’ eyes as he raised one hand, a creeping white light starting to obliterate the misty outline of Skyhold. ‘It is here I must leave you, falon. For the sake of what we shared, and for what you have shown me is possible, I will help you just once more.’

‘Demons talk in such circles. I learnt that lesson the hard way,’ Lea spat, her hands shaking as she raised a shimmering blue shield in front of her to ward off the encroaching brightness of Solas-demon’s magic. ‘It matters not. I will join Cullen on the other side, one way or another soon, and nothing you can do will stop me!’

‘It really would be better if you didn’t.’ His quip was laden with sadness, Lea staggering under the force of power shaking the earth beneath her feet. ‘We are out of time. I bid you good day, Inquisitor. For the sake of our friendship, I hope that our paths do not cross again. I will do what I must…..’

‘Solas? I don’t understand!’ Lea couldn’t make sense of anything, the rumbling vibrations combining with a blinding whiteness as she felt her spiritual presence being forcibly pulled out from the Fade. ‘Don’t make me! I can’t….I can’t cope….’

Her shrieks of despair were only met with silence, a tremendous wrench in the universe around her leaving her deaf and dumb to anything else but the immediacy of her surroundings. Just as she thought her head would explode from the sheer pressure, everything stopped, Lea was unceremoniously dumped into another plane of existence. Her awareness was left scrambled as a result of being dragged into the present against her will. The one thing that did register, bizarrely enough, was the ghost of a sleek, powerful wolf prowling into the fog. Its outline so translucent Lea thought she’d imagined it as grey rapidly melted away into the darkness that swamped her senses.

_Where am I?_

_Oh Maker….that feels like…._

It felt like cloth sliding over Lea’s fingers, her left toes slowly wiggling against the down duvet with her favourite cotton sheets tucking her in. She lay frozen, the crackling of the fireplace across the room and the tentative exploration of the bed underneath her fingers telling Lea she had to be in her quarters in Skyhold. Even armed with knowledge that should have comforted her, she refused to open her eyes and deal with the most immediate point.

_My bed…it’s empty….oh Cullen…._

It wasn’t just her bed that was empty. Her soul was empty, bereft and frozen without the comforting cobalt presence to keep her secure and warm. Loved. Cullen was lost to her and Lea wanted to do nothing else but join him on the other side of the Veil as soon as she found a fight tough enough to lose.

‘Lea! Maker’s Breath’ you’re finally awake!’

Her wracked sob didn’t go unnoticed it seemed, Lea’s eyes flying wide open at the familiar and much-loved, yet totally unexpected voice by her side.

‘How…’ she croaked, her voice rusty from weeks of misuse as her world spun in confusion. ‘Alistair? What are you doing here?’

There were many things Lea knew she’d have to face up to upon waking. The King of Ferelden, beaming at her with that cheeky grin of his was not one of them. That mere fact alone was enough to shock her into action, Lea sitting bolt upright. Rubbing her eyes, she stared once more at the mirage of one of her oldest friends, seemingly materialised out of nowhere to poke fun at her as he always did.

‘Waiting for you to awaken, my comatose princess. You look lovely in your sleep, Lea. Mouth open, snoring a little, with a most fetching line of dribble down one corner – ow!’

Alistair’s mock yelp as he avoided Lea’s indignant swipe at his forearm restored her to a modicum of sanity. For one merciful split second, she forgot the yawning void in her soul caused by Cullen’s now-permanent absence. She’d gone back to a time where only the bitter politics of the Circle had to be contended with and a wistful, shallow fancy that she’d mistaken for unrequited love.

Slipping unthinkingly into their usual banter, Lea drew the covers above her with a loud huff, tossing her braid back over her shoulder as she stuck her tongue out.

‘You deserved it, Alistair! That’s no way to speak to a lady. I’d hoped Freya might have taught you some manners but it seems not.’

_Oh._

_Just like that. Both of us, carrying the thankless burden of a love forever lost._

Alistair didn’t conceal his stab of loneliness fast enough. It was enough for Lea to remember exactly why she’d stayed in the Fade with memories of what had been denied her.

‘Lea….no, don’t cry….I’m an idiot…it will be alright….’

Lea crumped into Alistair’s arms just as she had done back in Denerim during her red lyrium-induced madness, believing all was over between her and Cullen. At least then she’d had the security of knowing Cullen lived. Now, she had nothing and her world had never felt so bleak and devoid of hope.

‘Shhh, it’s going to be okay,’ Alistair murmured softly into her hair, coaxing her to rest her weeping face on his shoulder. ‘We’ll find out what happened to him and we will bring him home…..’

‘Home?’ Lea choked out. ‘There is no home any more! He’s gone, he won’t come back…’

‘You don’t know that, Lea! It’s not like you, to give up the fight….’

‘There is nothing left, how do you handle this pain, minute by minute, second by second? I’m being crushed, I can’t think straight, I didn’t want to fucking well wake up! Fuck you Solas, why did you drag me back to this living hell…..’

Lea slithered off the bed in a shambolic heap in a last-ditch attempt to run away from the agony, her arms tight across her belly as she bent over double. She’d become so skeletal she had little energy to stand, crashing onto the floor and skinning her knees in the process. Her mind was screaming as she clawed at her ears, image upon image tumbling before her as she struggled to process a world without Cullen in it. The sapphire of her magic was wailing plaintively, a seething mass continually seeking out its cobalt mate as it spun wildly beyond Lea’s control.

‘Lea! Lea! Trystan, Cassandra, Maker’s Breath, one of you get in here now! Lea, you have to stop or you’ll tear down the whole of Skyhold…..’

She was clawing at her eyes, her ears, her head, tearing at her hair, anything to distract from the mental torture she was experiencing. One way or the other, it had to stop, the combined blue and green power she normally kept on a tight leash rampaging alongside a welter of emotions so overwhelming the floodgates were about to burst open.

All she could see, no matter where her gaze fell, was Cullen. Amber-gold eyes that hid no mood or emotion from the woman he was bonded to for eternity. The unexpected spark of humor on the ramparts that rained mayhem at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The trepidation, longing and a love so abiding, sincere in his devotion when he’d knelt down before her to propose. Hot, sticky blood was pouring through her fingers, the crimson life-force pouring from him, his skin tainted with the sheen of death whilst she battled to rescue him in the Crossroads.

Every single effort to keep Cullen from leaving her had been eventually for naught. And yet, still the memories bombarded her, Lea begging for merciful release as her nails clawed in desperation at her palms, then at her forearms, raking down the fragile skin time and time again in a last-ditch attempt to stop the madness and hurt. The imagined blood became real as her self-inflicted wounds bled raw, yet even her tried and tested methods of control spectacularly failed to stem the tide.

_There is no escape….even in death you cannot leave me…._

Cullen was there as Lea hovered between awake and unconscious, cradling her head in his lap as Solas and Dorian joined their wills together to save her from the damage caused by the Aspect of the Nightmare. He was there as she’d stumbled, frozen and teeth chattering and her limbs seizing up, her hair matted with frost as she ran away from Corypheus in Haven. He was there to guide her back to normality as she’d stumbled through the rubble of Kirkwall in a crazy red haze, seeking answers only Cullen could give her to the ages-old Mage-Templar conundrum that shook faith to the core. He was there, his fury as ice cold as hers was blazing hot, allowing Lea to deal blow after punishing blow to exorcise the demons that had stalked her during the long months of their bitter separation. All it had taken to demonstrate his forgiveness for her unforgivable behaviour when he’d been at his lowest point, the lyrium bottle lifted to his lips, had been a single bruising kiss in the dusty sands of the Western Approach.

_Oh Maker, please, end this for me, I can’t….!_

He was there, the spark of awareness that had manged to survive Samson’s brutality, gently nursing her back to health and awareness from the brink of insanity. He was there as she’d wept, laughed, vomited and apologised repeatedly in their little cottage by the lake – swinging from giddy exhilaration at the joy of being alive down to the black depths of depression, unable to move as she waited to die. There he was once more, always when it counted, Lea drawing upon the well of Cullen’s reserves to the point where she couldn’t stop herself despite the damage it caused him. Cullen unwavering selflessness gave her everything he could in the last-ditch attempt to defeat an ancient evil that had plagued and persecuted them without respite.

‘Lea! Damn, this is worse than I thought…..we love you too, please don’t do this!’

‘Is there anything –.’

‘I just don’t want to cut her off – who knows what damage that would do?’

‘We have to do something! She’ll kill us all in her suicide wish if you don’t….’

They were gnats, faraway voices she didn’t want to register. Lea thought her head would explode, a million and one tiny details crashing across her vision repeatedly, relentless in their unforgiving memories.

Cullen’s rare laughter at one of her idiosyncrasies, his crooked smile as he watched her when he thought she couldn’t see him, the smooth lines of the scar over his lip on her fingertips. The stroke of his tongue and the heat of his breath across her earlobe, the trail of his fingers across her abdomen as they crept downwards, the fire of his lips against her inner thigh as he leisurely took his time to worship her maimed body. His frown of concentration as he scowled at yet another report to cross his desk, the bark of irritation at a hapless soldier too slow on the uptake. The shaft of sunlight catching the blonde head as he adjusted his markers in the War Room. The beads of sweat across his chest and upper arms as he discarded his shirt and swung his sword in a series of practiced strokes, the taut outline of contained power in the muscles across his shoulders holding Lea endlessly fascinated as she covertly watched him train……

_So close now, my love._

_I will not be parted from you….they cannot keep me away from you…._

‘No!’ Lea screamed as her magic was suddenly cut off, the blazing energy through her veins halted as her arms were pinned to her side. ‘I won’t do this! You’ve had enough from me! When will it stop, oh Maker, please make it stop….’

‘Lea, ssh. Have we ever let anything happen to you? Let us help you. This is far more severe than we anticipated….’

‘I want my magic back,’ she pleaded, unable to look up at Trystan as Dorian captured her hands, the hot sticky wetness underneath her nails and down her forearms disappearing under his regeneration spell. ‘Haven’t we suffered enough? I’ve done my bit, for fuck’s sake, you don’t need me any more! The Breach is closed….I can’t live without him, I am just half a person, nothing without him….’

‘You won’t have to, my dearest sister.’ Cadan didn’t bother to hide his own tears as he caught her wrists from Dorian, preventing her from hurting herself further. ‘We’re here to find Cullen and bring him back.’

‘But he’s dead, gone, why are you dragging out this bullshit pretence!’ Lea was, by now, shrieking incoherently, hating them all for denying her the ultimate release.

Right before vomiting all over the finely woven rug right before her.

The thought that Cullen, so vital and determined to survive and overcome odds insurmountable to other mortals, was no longer alive was incomprehensible to the point of physical pain.

‘So that’s what this is about,’ Trystan said quietly, ignoring the mess she’d just made and forcing her to look straight at a brother who’d stood as much of a protector as her beloved ex-Templar. ‘Lea, you need to listen to me. Cullen is alive. We don’t know where, but we need you to find him. Do you understand?’

_Alive? But how?_

_What was that….but they said….._

‘I don’t – I don’t understand,’ Lea stammered, her teeth rattling in her jaw as an intense chill settled into her bones, Trystan’s solid block over her mana still firmly in place. ‘He went away, gone they said. Forever, beyond the Veil. I had to join him, I still do….’

_Trystan wouldn’t lie. You know you’re back in the present. This is all real and Cullen lives._

_You need to snap out of this, Lea. Or do you want to fail him yet again?_

The tiny voice of reason that had been shunted to one side for so long finally asserted itself.

Lea blinked, rubbing her hands up her arms as she stared wildly around at Alistair, Trystan, Cadan and Dorian. Her sanctuary at Skyhold was busy, too many bodies crowded in one space around her, unable to move as Cadan trapped her in one spot. Only the sliver of hope that her brother’s words ignited kept Lea from hitting him comatose then stealing Cadan’s dagger and finding a permanent solution to end the living horror.

‘I think I see.’ Dorian waved a hand, the noxious stench of her own bile disappearing. ‘There, we don’t need that around do we. Inquisitor. It’s me. Dorian. You know, another mage. The talented one from Tevinter. Anyway, that is an ongoing debate we can continue when you’re back to yourself. Right now, all you need to know that Corypheus, or another pestilence in the Fade, has tricked you. Even after you finished him off, your battle continued. Cullen is not dead and he wants to see you. But first, he’d like you to breathe. Can you do that for me? There we go, in…out….in…out….’

In shock at her brutal return to the real world and the stampede of opposite emotions pulling her spirit in every direction, Lea could only obey. Dorian took her through a series of elementary breathing exercises she’d learnt as a novice, something soothing in the rhythms of the past, back to a time when order had ruled her existence and before she’d learnt rules were there to be broken. She closed her eyes and focused on the slow inhales and exhales, the truth of Dorian’s statement trickling through to her conscious all while she battled the ongoing nausea of her magic being denied her by her own brother.

‘That’s my girl. It’s for your own good, I promise. Not to mention the rest of us if you choose to tear down this tower of yours.’ Dorian read her mind, cajoling her further to distract her. ‘Now, you need rest and Cadan here is going to put you back into bed….there we go. Drink this for me – yes, I know Solas never liked to disguise just how utterly disgusting embrium tastes when blended with blood lotus. How you always declared he mills herbs finer than I can is quite beyond the pale….’

The embers of hope was burning brighter and brighter with each second that passed, although a dopiness like Lea had never experienced left her incapable of even the most basic movement. Dorian had forcibly tipped something down her throat, the impact on her empty stomach more than Lea could tolerate. Muted voices buzzed from far away, sheets being tucked in around her as the acid taste coating her tongue faded. The blind terror had abated, leaving behind exhaustion so absolute Lea craved the bliss of oblivion that would delay her having to deal with….whatever she’d have to deal with.

Her wits were deadened, the conviction that Cullen had died then the reversal as the truth was revealed draining her of what little brainpower remained. As the world went mercifully black, Lea embraced the stillness of sleep whilst silently celebrating the flicker of light illuminating her soul.

_Cullen lives….he’s alive…my life….my love…._

_Wait for me. I will find you…._

\----

Just as he was always her last thought upon sleeping, so Cullen was always Lea’s first thought upon wakening. Unconsciously, she reached out for the comforting warmth of his large body, her eyes flying open as she grabbed handfuls of cold sheet instead. Early morning sun flooded her room, causing Lea to squint. The moisture leaking down her cheeks wasn’t just caused by the too-bright light she hadn’t seen in a month. The split-second of normality she’d experienced upon waking had been drowned out by a tide of panic and loss.

_Too much….this is too much….._

That she was, somehow staring at the rafters in her Skyhold rooms did little for her state of mind. The last time Lea had been awake fully had been when she’d dispassionately watched the madness that Corypheus encapsulated be permanently banished to the Veil – a place he should have gone a thousand years ago. She’d been buzzing with a heightened energy, exultant at their victory, yet unable to remain upright as the crimson ties that bound her to Corypheus snapped. Her last thought had been of Cullen and his frantic shout reassuring her that he had survived.

‘I thought he would be fine. That I could rest. How wrong I was….I failed you I am so sorry….where are you…’

Her incoherent rambling as Lea stared wildly round her room attracted unwanted attention. It was the second shock in as many moments as both Trystan and Cadan turned to face her, Lea having inadvertently drawn their notice. Both were, she thought ridiculously to herself, far taller than her imagination had remembered, imposing and commanding as they strode towards her. With equal looks of relief and fear mingled on their faces, the tears started to flow unbidden. If she’d been able to put her terror aside for even a split second, she’d have found room to laugh at the identical expressions of mortification that they’d missed her awakening.

‘Don’t, no….Cadan….Trystan….I can’t do this….why did he leave?’

Her face sank into her palms and her shoulders heaved as she alternated between sobs and gasps for air. The trembling she’d managed to supress was back in force, wave after wave of agony again crashing through her veins at the memory of how badly she’d failed Cullen. Normal conversation was beyond her as she looked anywhere but at her family, praying for the Maker to find a hole in the ground to swallow her whole.

Wordlessly, Cadan held her in a tight embrace as they waited patiently for the storm to pass, the only two people closer to her in the world than Cullen there to save her, just as they always promised they would the moment she’d been sent off to the Circle. In all the years that had passed, with all the trials that they’d suffered, not once had either of them broken their word.

‘Lea, look at me. Lea.’ Trystan’s gentle tone coaxed her as strong fingers prised her hands away from her eyes. ‘We will fix this. If you can defeat a darkspawn magister and close a hole in the sky not once, but twice, you can find out where Cullen has gone and bring him back.’

‘And as soon as you feel able – who the fuck is that?’

Her irate twin’s abrasiveness was lost on Lea, silently grateful her brothers were scowling at the stairwell aside from fussing over her. She was too busy curling back up on her bed into a tight ball, released from their scrutiny for a blessed second as they dealt with the intruder. Nugs could have flown through the air and Lea wouldn’t have cared. If the visitor wasn’t Cullen, she didn’t want to know.

‘….gone on for long enough…..address this directly and stop this nonsense!’

‘She’s in shock….I know you mean well but….now is not a good time –.’

Cadan’s reprimand was lost on the statuesque figure gliding across the room, the menacing shadow towering across the back wall reminding Lea for one insane minute of the desire demon who’d repeatedly stalked her in the Fade. The scathing dismissal from a stern female voice was of sufficient severity to persuade her that her visitor was no less dangerous, the disorienting confusion Lea still experienced at her abrupt awakening multiplying with the arrival of such an unexpected guest.

Lea hadn’t had the pleasure of coming face to face with one of the later arrivals to the Inquisition for a formal introduction, interested in observing their intriguing recruit from a distance. She’d also heard through the Skyhold grapevine that Rylen’s drunken fling had, amazingly, become a love match. Both Bull and Sera had been vocal in their disgruntlement that the Qunari mage was, for an apparently inexplicable reason to them, taken with Cullen’s very able but normally taciturn second in command. The Tal Vashoth’s talent with rift magic was as prodigal as her prowess on the battlefield. Bull’s lusty sighs of appreciation one late evening in the Herald’s Rest were enough to provoke the normally reserved former Knight-Captain into a challenge, Varric’s newly formed fighting ring the scene for some of the most gleeful betting she’d ever witnessed.

Rylen’s intoxicated declarations of fighting for Keram’s honour that night had, much to Lea and Cullen’s entertainment, been met with scornful derision by the Qunari in question. Lea remembered, with some respect as she’d observed from a far table, the haughty disdain Keram had dismissed both of her quarrelling suitors. She’d been regally terrifying all in one go as both men ceased their ridiculous carping and gawped at her in mute astonishment, put smoothly into place with little more than a head tilt and a patronising smirk.

_In much the same way as now. Not quite so funny when that gimlet look is turned on me._

_Maker, when did Keram get so…..big? In a scary way? Why is she here?_

‘You wonder why you have problems, _basra_? Lazing around in bed and ignoring your responsibilities might just be the answer.’

Keram appeared to be about ten foot tall to Lea’s bleary eyes, the contemptuous words of a relative stranger stinging through the shield wall of Lea’s abject despair. Using the close-curled onyx-tinted horns as a focus, conveniently avoiding the penetrating emerald glare, she remained in her protective ball, her mind screaming at her in protest from the unwanted interference. It lasted for all of a second. The churn of paranoia burnt through her momentary distraction, closely followed by a spurt of irrational anger.

‘A lecture on duty, _venak hol_ , is hardly something a Tal Vasoth is qualified to give.’

Rage. It felt good.

_Anything, rather than this…._

Keram’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise at Lea’s knowledge of Qunari. That Bull had taught Lea most of the swear words and not an awful lot else wasn’t something Lea felt the need to share. The twist of satisfaction at having taken the normally unmovable Tal Vashoth aback was short-lived, Keram’s withering assessment of Lea’s uncalled-for insult adding shame to the noxious churn of anxiety and fury in the pit of Lea’s stomach. When both her brothers frowned their disapproval at her uncharacteristic churlishness, injustice and betrayal further tore open the gaping raw wound corroding Lea’s soul.

‘Was that supposed to hurt me? If wars could be won with words then you’d surely fail.’ Keram’s curt wave of dismissal merely fuelled Lea’s rapidly deteriorating temper. ‘I stand corrected. You’ve failed already before even opening your mouth. Hiding beneath the sheets is about all you’re good for it would appear.’

‘You are the second person to accuse me of such cowardice in as many hours and you’ll be the last,’ Lea growled, unwittingly scrambling to a sitting position as anger burned away the lingering fog of Fade-induced exhaustion and numbing sorrow. ‘Honour is not a concept you seem familiar with, given the _vashedan_ you spout! How dare you come in here, uninvited? You haven’t the first clue of what I’ve survived, nor what I’ve sacrificed to ensure you are at liberty to distract my soldiers from their duty with your petty gameplaying!’

Cadan and Trystan had melted into the background for some inexplicable reason. Their seeming withdrawal of support was as nothing to the mocking grin of the beautiful Qunari woman now taunting her. The purity of rage cleansed Lea’s mind and cleared her wits, the song of her magic lending her strength to get to her feet and face down the interloper invading her sanctuary.

She’d literally woken up after a month of being seduced by demons in the Fade, with her Commander gone and her body battered, struggling to comprehend the news that Cullen lived when she’d been so utterly convinced of his death. Lea was disoriented, confused and heartbroken and some upstart Qunari barging into her chambers pointing out her many shortcomings was the last thing she needed.

The fighting spirit Lea had spent the best part of four weeks dismantling surged through her veins. Twin spots of red burned on her cheeks as Lea drew her magic forth to sustain her, her clenched fists blazing balls of green and blue as she gestured a sharp motion of dismissal at the interloper in her midst. 

Keram, of course, remained unimpressed.

‘Some Herald you are. What a pathetic image you present! You’ve let yourself go, no longer fit to hold the staff you’ve ignored or wield the magic you’ve been gifted with.’

Lea hated the wave of self-consciousness that swept over her – almost as much as she hated the truth in Keram’s bald statement. She was weak, barely able to stand, only the dual force of mana and rage in her blood holding her upright, her chin tilted in defiance. It made little difference. Keram wasn’t finished with her – by a long shot.

‘You think your pretty little speech will hurt me? You have no idea what sacrifices I, or anyone else who serves the Inquisition has made. Yet you feel free to abandon us, those who gave up everything to save your pathetic hide. Some love you declare you have for the Commander, although you deserted him too the moment the going got tough. Skulking in the Fade and wallowing in self-pity is preferable to finding a solution to save not only him, but the rest of Thedas, is it? No, don’t think to lecture me, _Inquisitor_. You lost the right to do so the moment you quit, like the coward you know you are!’

‘That’s enough, thank you Keram,’ Trystan interrupted smoothly just before Lea let little self-control she possessed erupt in a torrent of purple lightening. ‘Cadan, please will you escort the lady back to her quarters?’

‘With pleasure, Knight-Commander. There is little to be gained in conversing with stubborn fools and I have more……productive ways to pass the time.’

Lea stood trembling, clasping hold of the bed for support as Keram politely inclined her head at the two men and departed. Cadan threw her a worried glance before he too, left the room. Blindly, Lea took a few tentative steps forward, the glare of the early morning sun multiplying the banging hammer on her temples. It was all she could do to hold herself upright and not empty the contents of her guts on the floor again.

‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Trystan said hesitantly behind her. ‘I’d have to explain to Cullen why I allowed two of the rugs he searched for so long to be ruined. You can do this, Lea. You’re stronger than this.’

‘What just happened? I can’t….I have to deal…..’ Lea ramming her fists into her eyes to block the light. ‘I might despise her for her methods but Keram is right. I’m a fucking failure who ran the moment the shit truly hit the fan and as a result, Cullen has suffered.’

‘Come, sit down. You need to eat something and calm down a bit. You’ve been through a serious trauma and your mind has an awful lot to process.’ Trystan steered her to her favourite armchair, Lea sinking down gracelessly as she tried not to gag at the smell of food. ‘Don’t judge me for this, but I am glad you are awake and coherent, Lea. If Keram has managed to achieve that, then don’t judge me the next time I buy her an ale as thanks. She has you back on your feet and back with us – which in itself is a miracle none of the rest of us have been able to achieve.’

Lea had bought herself back under a modicum of control, her magic resting quietly once more. The sense of loss was magnified almost to the point of intolerable pain, Lea closing her eyes and taking deep steadying breaths as she tried to orient herself. The vicious attack by Keram had one positive effect – she was most definitely back in her body and alert.

Slowly, normality returned. The crackling of the hearth in the fire, the slight hint of woodsmoke, the warmth of the wintery sun on the back of her arms resting on the seat. The quiet, solid presence of her brother she was always able to feel through her magic calmed her the most. It wasn’t Cullen, of course, and nor was the reaction to any other Templar remotely comparable to the singing in her soul and the dancing of her spirit whenever her and Cullen’s senses connected, but the stability Trystan had always represented to his younger sister steadied Lea as nothing else quite could have at that point.

The crazed insanity she’d experienced when Solas had literally forced her out of the Fade against her will had, thank the Maker departed for the time being. Keeping her eyes closed as Trystan waited patiently, she sorted through the riot of emotions and thoughts bombarding her, falling back on Dorian’s earlier advice to focus on her breathing. Churning chaos and crippling devastation receded as she kept her focus on each long inhale and exhale, at least enough for Lea to remember, at long last, what was truly important.

_I’m not any good to you if I am gibbering in a corner._

_Wait for me, my love. Hang on in there whilst I get to the bottom of this._

With a fortitude Lea wasn’t aware she possessed, she forced aside the suffocating despair at Cullen’s absence, determined to get a grip of herself. An urgency gripped her, the like of which she’d only experienced as she’d fallen through the eluvian in the Temple of Mythal, racing to reach Cullen in time. Now was no different.

Her mind was clear, the paralysing fear that had held her trapped in the Fade replaced by an icy rage that something, had held her in a warped alternate reality for so long – and that she’d fallen for it. Every day lost was a day that Cullen went further away from her. It wasn’t her usual impatience and short temper. No, this fury was saved for those moments in Lea’s life when someone threatened those most dear to her, sharpening her wits and clearing the final cobwebs from her brain.

_Enough is enough. Someone has the fucking gall! Who would dare?_

_Whoever you are, I will make you regret the day you were born._

Her eyes snapped open, staring straight back at her brother, giving Trystan a quick nod to indicate she was well. Which indeed she was. Aside from a cracking headache and with less strength than a newborn lamb, she was herself, in control of her magic and formidable talents, and capable of lucid thought and speech. Scanning herself internally, Lea grimaced – but it could have been worse. Her muscles were sore and wasted, similarly to when she’d awoken from Samson’s torture, but she had some energy and it wasn’t anything that a few good dinners and exercise wouldn’t cure.

She was also ravenously hungry and in dire need of a drink.

‘I’m alright, Trystan. I’m back. And I’ll eat.’ Lea dusted down the creased trousers, keeping her brain focused on small things as she shook of the last of the disorientation. ‘I always loved the way this rug went squishy underneath my toes.’

‘Drink this.’ Trystan poured her some water which she gratefully accepted.

For now, it was just the two of them in her quarters, a rapid glance around the dark room telling Lea that nothing at all had changed in her cozy rooms since she’d shot off in such haste to Orlais. Glancing down, it was all she could do to hold onto her veneer of composure. Her hand drifted over the soft cream cotton of one of her Commander’s most worn and favourite shirts. The unique woody citrus scent that was all Cullen had long since gone from the material, and the bed they’d shared, but it was a reminder to her that somewhere he lived.

_And that I wasted….._

‘How long this time?’ Lea demanded of her brother, finding her voice once more as the thirst receded. ‘Long enough for Alisair to make it here, clearly, and for Cullen to vanish. Tell me, dammit! Now is not the time for polite conversation!’

‘Lea, don’t you think you should at least – no. I can’t blame you.’ Trystan looked hard at her for a moment, assessing her capacity to function. ‘Just over four weeks. Cullen went missing the night after you returned from your victory over Corypheus. Alistair arrived yesterday – right before you woke the first time.’

‘A month!’ Lea bit her lip hard and clenched her fists, closing her eyes momentarily as she battled a fresh wave of terror. ‘He’s been gone a month? What do we know? You can tell me why Alistair is here afterwards and how this all fits into the sorry tale.’

‘Lea….’ Trystan’s look of reluctance and prepared speech came to a halt as Lea held up a hand to stop him.

‘No small talk. I don’t think I’ll ever adjust to waking up and having such vast spans of time missing, so we may as well press on – no, I’ll deal with it in my own way, Trystan. This is so much worse than before. Samson and his thugs could only hurt me physically. Cullen missing – well, someone knows to hit me where it hurts the most. Let’s look on the bright side. Twenty-four hours ago, I thought Cullen was dead. Now I know he is alive and that changes everything.’

‘If you insist.’ Trystan capitulated, clearly not wanting to make a bad situation worse. ‘We knew you were stuck in a repeated scenario in the Fade, but we had no idea how to get you out, although you drifted in and out of conscious – you were just never back long enough before it drew you in once more. It happened the night Cullen vanished. He literally seemed to disappear into thin air, with no note or anything missing, seemingly. Then your condition deteriorated, the scouts returned nothing from their search. In itself, that is a good thing. There is no corpse, and dead bodies have a habit of returning right when you least want them to. That in itself means he is alive. Leliana suggests that Cullen has eradicated all evidence of his flight as a message of sorts, and I am inclined to agree with her.’

‘This makes no sense,’ Lea muttered, refusing to acknowledge the panic that threatened to rise. ‘I was in the Fade. I was convinced he was dead, irrationally so as it turns out. Tricked is a good word for it.’

‘What did you see in the Fade, Lea? You mentioned demons upon awakening.’ Trystan’s relaxed posture didn’t fool Lea one bit.

‘You know I am not possessed, although it wasn’t for the want of trying. There was one desire demon who was especially persistent.’ Lea actually chuckled, although there was little humour in the harsh tone. ‘She promised me we could save Cullen together, that if we pooled our resources we’d resolve the mystery faster. I managed to see her off. Then Solas – he came and threw me back into reality. Where is he?’ Lea winced. Keram had been right to point out too, that Lea should care more for friends who had also sacrificed everything. ‘Oh Maker, how is everyone else? I must thank them all.’

‘I don’t think you – oh, very well, but Lea this is a lot for you to take in right now,’ Trystan warned her, then capitulated. ‘Solas - .’

‘Solas said goodbye but I – will deal with that later.’ Mysteriously vanishing elves was a subject Lea would dwell on at a later date. Solas could look after himself. Cullen would forever be the priority - just as her good friend had indicated to her in the Fade. As to the rest of her friends, her concern for them was genuine, but overshadowed completely by the urgency driving her to 

‘This is what Cullen must have experienced, awakening to a world where everything is the same but everything has changed.’ Lea’s headache intensified, nibbling on a piece of bread in an attempt to soothe her roiling stomach. ‘My room looks identical – even Cullen’s table over there remains untouched. That’s the book he was reading with the page open before we set off to Val Royeaux at such short notice. I keep thinking he’s about to walk through the door and tell me off for working too much. Trystan – I don’t….’

Her voice broke as Lea took a shuddering gasp against the sudden stab of agony, shaking her head at Trystan’s instinctive move towards her.

‘No! Don’t – I am useless to Cullen if I can’t find a way through this.’ Questions, demands for information – Lea needed answers that no one seemed able to provide her with. ‘All traces of flight are erased?’

‘Seemingly so.’ Trystan nodded heavily, dismay for the disappearance of one of his closest friends apparent. ‘Everything has been untouched in his quarters and yours.’

‘That cannot be,’ Lea muttered, climbing unsteadily to her feet as she wandered over to stare at the much-loved, bold handwriting staring up at her from an unfinished troop movement report. ‘Cullen wouldn’t just go and leave no evidence and it’s not like the Maker suddenly whisked him away. I need to search Skyhold myself.’

‘Yes, some perspective is needed, dear sister.’ Cadan’s sardonic words, delivered in his usual caustic manner, made Lea blink in surprise as her twin strolled back into the room. ‘You might attribute superpowers to your Commander, but Cullen is just a man and hardly infallible. Besides, I’m here now. It would give me the greatest pleasure to find a clue that Varric has missed. I’ve got twenty golds riding on the outcome, after all.’

‘I missed you, Cadan.’ Lea’s watery smile as her twin embraced her was just enough to prevent more tears from falling. ‘Your sense of perspective was ever refreshing. Can you tell me anything else?’

‘Not much.’ Cadan sobered, his frustration evident. ‘Although it is good to see you too, dear sister, albeit I wish I had better news for you. He’s escaped the combination of mine, Leliana’s and Varric’s networks. I cannot tell you where he might be hiding.’

Lea picked up Cullen’s report, tracing her fingers over each firm, sharp line of the letters. She could see him, bent over, scribbling one order after another, meticulous and thorough in his duties no matter the sacrifices he’d have to make. When her Commander made a commitment, he saw it through to the end, with no hesitation.

‘There is something you don’t know. He gave me his strength, Trystan – his own abilities from the lyrium, so I could defeat Corypheus. Without that, I would not be standing here now.’ For one blessed moment, Lea felt nothing but awe, the sensation of complete trust and faith Cullen had always placed in her encapsulated in his final, selfless gift. ‘Nor would any of you, for that matter. He was the one who truly saved us – saved Thedas.’

_Even if it means destroying his heart’s true desire. He left me because he loves me._

_What was of such danger, my love, that you felt you had no other option but to run?_

Lea’s renewed sense of purpose strengthened, rapidly disseminating the limited information she’d been given. ‘The lack of any message is, in itself, a message. You are right. Cullen was forced to leave, of that we are certain, and ordered to leave no indication of his departure, presumably so there would be a significant delay in raising the alarm. So there we have two clues right there.’

‘Correct.’ Cadan scowled down at the table, Lea only now realising a smaller version of the War Table resided in her own quarters. ‘We have searched all of Skyhold thoroughly, both the normal routes and the emergency exits. There was no trace of anything amiss. His family know nothing. Sweeps of theft have revealed nothing unusual aside from the usual barracks – what?’

‘Let me have a list of all items stolen.’ Icy fear had replaced the heat of anger in Lea’s chest. ‘Include lyrium stocks, just in case.’

‘Lyrium! I have never heard of what you’re describing Lea, but what exists between you and Cullen is not something any other mortal has experienced so I’ll take your word for it. But still, this is a stretch.’ Trystan had joined Cadan at the map, staring at Lea in consternation. ‘Why would Cullen take lyrium? The threat of Corypheus is over, at least, and the war for the Inquisition in that regard past. I foresee more battles in the ballrooms of Orlais and Tevinter than against darkspawn monsters from the distant past.’

‘I know, I know. We need to cover all angles though. Maker save me, how did I allow such a thing to happen?’

The dramatic scene of the Frostbacks, the snowy peaks tinted pink in the morning sunrise with the purple sky of dawn fading to blue, was normally one that always bought Lea peace. Today however, having awoken to such a critical situation combined with the disorientation of losing four weeks of her life, Lea had no room for the self-indulgence of devastation. It was most certainly there, Lea wanting to do nothing more than run away screaming off the edge of a cliff to cauterise the pain of Cullen’s absence.

_Keram was right. If she hadn’t been so shockingly blunt, I’d still be feeling overly sorry for myself, and how does that help bring Cullen back?_

_I owe here a beer too, damn her. And I bet Varric’s got something riding on that outcome._

Cullen needed all of her – the leader who could accurately analyse a political situation in as many seconds right along with the mage who could decimate a demon with a mere blast of frost from her hand. Most importantly, he needed the woman who knew him better than he knew himself, able to interpret every action and identify the underlying motive beneath. Even through her own trauma, the tiny voice of sanity pointed out repeatedly that none of it made any sense. Whether she’d been trapped in the Fade or willingly was irrelevant. He was alive, the tiny flame of hope that had sustained Lea before she’d passed out earlier now a blazing beacon, renewing her energy and returning her sole purpose of being.

A hard smile of determination curled Lea’s lips as she spun away, the majestic scene of the mountains already forgotten. The shadow of a defeated woman was gone as Lea took her place next to both her brothers, warily watching out for any minute change in mood. Their expressions as they observed her, eyes clear and face impassive, ready to work, were mixed with relief and pride as they silently hugged her one last time. Cullen might be absent but the other two men who had guarded her throughout her life were there to watch her back once more. Lea’s muscles relaxed and a proper smile crossed her face as she kissed them both on the cheek.

‘I won’t go anywhere again. I promise,’ she vowed softly, refusing to bow to the bitter regret seeping through her bones.

‘We never doubted you, Lea. It is good to have you home,’ Cadan replied gruffly, smoothing the flyaway strands of Lea’s hair behind her ears. ‘There. You can see again. Aren’t you ever going to get that mane of yours tamed?’

‘You’re a fine one to talk!’ Lea complained, retying her braid. ‘Thank you for the reminder that I am in sore need of a bath and change of clothes. How do you survive at Court with such shabby manners?’

‘Welcome back, my hoyden of a sister.’ Trystan’s grin was broad as Lea ignored them both. ‘Now, if you’re both done playing shall we address ourselves to the task at hand?’

‘Indeed, if you’d just pay attention for five blasted seconds,’ Lea huffed, even as her gaze narrowed on the markers on the map. ‘Holy shit, this is a complicated situation. Tevinter, Orlais and the Qunari are all at each other’s throats. For once Eamon has nothing to moan about. So why bother stealing my Commander away? All of this is nothing to do with the Inquisition.’

‘Close the Breach you did, Lea, but restore order?’ Trystan gestured to the armies gathered along the northern Orlesian border. ‘We have a way to go. There are many who would profit from the instability in Tevinter.’

‘The Qunari being one. My sources hint at growing civil unrest,’ Cadan agreed. ‘The work of the Inquisition is far from over I think you’ll find. You can’t just go charging off after Cullen either. There is too much at stake.’

‘Cadan, if there is one thing I am not going to do it’s endanger Cullen’s life any further than it is already.’ Lea was chewing on her lip, twisting the signet ring on her finger as a horrible realisation dawned. ‘Whether it has been done to prevent me following, or to encourage me to follow, I cannot say. People underestimate the depth of devotion, the bond that Cullen and I share. It is unbreakable. I will find him, no matter where he is nor the distance that separates us. And we will be together again.’

Her declaration hung in the stillness of the morning, a sworn vow to herself to never lose sight of her ultimate goal. For what lay ahead of her was more perilous than even Lea could ever have imagined. Glaring clarity had Lea trembling, the obvious lying before her in every machination and calculated counterattack against both the Inquisition and her as an individual. It was a pattern so familiar to Lea, she almost laughed at the simplicity of the deception that had fooled everyone else for so long.

_Or I would laugh, if I wasn’t so fucking terrified._

‘I need more information before I can act, but the answer is right there. Even the most gullible novice can see it. There is only one person with the political connections and brute power to force the impossible.’

The nods from her brother confirmed Lea’s worst suspicions as she held up her hand, the heavy gold band with her own insignia falling loosely forward on her too-thin fingers.

‘Vivienne de Fer. Where the fuck is she?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [halfblood-fiend](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfblood_Fiend/pseuds/Halfblood_Fiend) for the loan of her awesomely fabulous Inquisitor, Keram Adaar. The more I thought about it, the more Keram was the only one who had the right attitude to snap Lea out of it!


	4. Wishful Thinking

_Maker, Leaena, this must be the hundredth letter I’ve managed to make a mess of this evening. ~~Just add it to the never ending pile of letters I have written to you and you’ll never read.~~_

_Yet even this small act of feigning normality is all I have left. Writing to you brings you closer – it keeps you real, no matter how stupid that sounds. Whether they get read or not by my captors I care not. Actually, so confident are they that I am under the thumb, I am safe to add this to the stack of unposted correspondence. I can only dream of having the freedom to communicate to you. I am so sorry. How could I let this happen!_

_They call my love for you my ultimate weakness, the one chink in the Inquisition’s otherwise impenetrable armour. It is my one sole act of defiance to prove them wrong, and it gives me great delight to twist the knife further. Strangely enough, you are the ultimate weakness for your nemesis, much though it would never be admitted._

_You, my lady, are my sole font of strength. You made me the man I was destined to be, your steadfast love and fierce devotion guiding my path. Yes, that sounds absurdly over the top, but who cares? You already know exactly what you mean to me._

_Besides, I have never been particularly good at hiding my feelings when it comes to you, and I have no intention of starting now. Varric was right, damn him and his neverending betting book. I’m sure I made that dwarf even richer simply through the amount of times he bet on my inability to maintain a distance of more than a metre between us._

_It makes me laugh, to think back on those first heady days when everything was new. I thought I did so well at concealing my true emotions. How wrong I was, my lady, to waste such precious time. Why did we wait, for that first, unforgettable kiss? Why did it take your near-death to make me realise just what I was about to lose? Because you were a mage? Because I couldn’t bring myself to trust you, despite the glaringly obvious?_

_I have no answers, but these questions are all I have to keep me company. I replay the caress of your lips, the ghost of your breath on my cheek, your sweet, shy smile when you catch sight of me, your unique scent as I bury my nose against the delicate skin on your neck. ~~Did I tell you that you are my orange blossom? I can’t go past a tree in bloom without imagining that’s what you’d be if you were a wood nymph.~~_

_Apparently, being away from your side is also sending me insane. I can’t believe I just wrote out such a ridiculous statement._

_It is bleak here, Leaena, just as it was in the mountains. The intense heat is an abrupt change from the searing cold. I somehow managed to accumulate quite a dark tan – a major feat for any Ferelden - and gathered some freckles across my shoulders and the bridge of my nose. There’s some potions around that prevent against sunburn but, quite frankly, I’ve lost the will to care much about it. Sand is everywhere, under my nails, in my scalp, between my toes, choking my lungs, and burying into every inch of my skin._

_Nothing good ever happens in deserts for us does it? I hate the bloody places, have I told you that -_

_When, for the love of all things holy, did I become this rambling, self-pitying, whining shell of a man! I don’t mean to moan or complain – knowing you are alive is all that matters to me. It’s worth every single sacrifice, every single step I take that leads me further away from you, from a life that was never destined to be mine. I had you for one beautiful, blessed year, and for that I remain forever grateful._

_Some days I rail against the injustice of it all, but even at this distance, you give me purpose. What lies ahead for me on this dark, desperate journey, I have no idea. I beg that you won’t come after me – I’m terrified that you will, even though it means certain death. Did I delay you for long enough? It’s too much to hope that Trystan, Varric, Cassandra, Cadan, Dorian and the others would be fooled. What a formidable team you have gathered about you, Inquisitor. You will be well looked after, thank the Maker._

_So long as you stay on the right side of Thedas. I don’t know how, but for you to cross – I cannot think on it! Not now, not when we are so close. This is the only protection I can offer you. To put as much distance between us as humanely possible...._

_This is my one break in the monotony of the day, and it is over. I must leave you again for the time being. It is my turn to take watch. Odd, how such ingrained habits refuse to leave me. This simple soldier remains in your service, even if it means I must destroy that which is most precious to both of us._

_I love you, always and forever._

_C_


	5. A Cold Reality

_What! It’s still the same…._

_How did the bitch do it!_

Nothing had changed. It was a glaringly obvious fact that should have been all too apparent to Lea. Instead, the dual emotions of icy terror and blazing range dominated her every thought and movement.

Her eyes darted rapidly around Cullen’s tower, thick with dust particles dancing in the slants of morning light. Piles of stacked reports sat on one side of the desk, the quill tilting out of the inkwell at exactly the same angle as Cullen had skewered it in place. The scroll that had fallen down to one side of the table as he’d brushed past was still lying there, forgotten. The bookshelf on the opposite side still had its slight gap in the orderly tomes of military history, caused by Lea grabbing a book to read months ago.

It had taken Lea mere moments to piece together the bare bones of the sorry scenario back in her quarters. The simple mention of Vivienne’s name had stunned her brothers into shocked silence. For her, it was obvious. There was only one possible culprit, only one enemy left standing.

Lea had barely remembered to throw on some leather armour and stout boots in her haste to search Cullen’s office. Trystan and Cadan hadn’t protested at her insistence to visit there first. They hadn’t needed to, able to pre-empt their sister’s motivations as the three of them seamlessly closed the familial ranks to fight the crisis.

Lea’s staff had illuminated the private corridor that Cullen had built especially for her as a present, one that Lea hadn’t used until that point. A present that was so unusual her companions had been in stiches, Cullen smilingly bearing the load of their jests. It had been easy. The two of them were the only ones who understood the blessed privacy Cullen had granted her, Lea pushed to tears at Cullen’s thoughtfulness when he’d revealed his final Satinalia gift.

The basic act of stepping foot into the dark space without him to hold her hand had almost been Lea’s undoing. They were meant to explore the tunnel’s benefits together, but the Maker had different ideas. Lea was, again, alone. Her jaw was still sore from her teeth clenching together as she’d raced through, deeming it easier to run rather than focus on the blaze of pain in her chest.

Lea had then led the silent stampede along the battlements in a blur of green and blue magical fog, drawing a muted crowd daunted by her obvious rage and underlying terror. Lea for once refused to acknowledge the hardworking men and women of the Inquisition in her insistence on finding answers. She needed to get to Cullen’s quarters, whipped on by the sinuous whispers of a demon promising her that she was, as ever, too late to prevent the carnage she alone was responsible for creating.

They’d arrived after what felt like an eternity, only for Lea to collapse against her usual spot against wall. The full force of Cullen’s absence crushed her resilience into nothingness. Everything was so familiar and she couldn’t get her head around the fact that Cullen wasn’t going to stride through the door, throw her a quick grin before tossing her over his shoulder amongst her squeals of laughter as he climbed up the stairs to his bed.

_No! If I lose this, I lose him._

_She will not win!_

She’d last been in this room before they’d rushed to Val Royeaux, casually leaning against the back wall of the door as she always did, silently watching with a combination of amusement and a slow burn of lust. Her Commander was barking out a barrage of orders to Rylen and the troops gathered around him. Even the urgency of the situation they’d faced couldn’t dampen her enjoyment, Lea ever appreciative of a rare opportunity to observe, and appreciate, her lover and best friend uninterrupted.

So it had been automatic for Lea to assume her position out of habit, always seeking an opportunity to surreptitiously admire Cullen and see how long he could hold out for before desire claimed him and he conceded defeat. It never lasted long, Cullen usually finding a way to dismiss the men and women gathered around within minutes. He’d then scowl at the door as it closed, Rylen’s dry chuckle just audible above the click of the lock.

No matter how challenging the day, how hungry or how exhausted Cullen was, he’d always greet her with his lips lifted in a smile the closer she walked towards his desk. He’d pull her close to him for a searing kiss that sent heat to every corner of her body, Lea then revelling in the security of his protective embrace. It was an unspoken ritual for them both, to stand quietly and hold each other tightly, both Cullen and Lea allowing peace into their lives as the world around them was put on hold.

For those special few minutes, Lea could forget, and just be, allowing Cullen’s strength to take over and for Lea to just be a woman irrecoverably in love. Titles and responsibilities were forgotten for them both, the sanctuary that was Cullen’s quiet corner of Skyhold sheltering them both from an unforgiving world relentless with its continuing demands.

_And now?_

Lea was standing, frozen in her usual spot as hatred and fear corroded her soul. There was no Cullen. There was no happy ever after with her husband to be. There was no rest for a man who had served above and beyond the call of duty. There were no powerful arms and muscular chest for her to rest her head. There was no warm toffee-whiskey whisper to banish the clamouring voices she’d lived with forever. Her unwanted companions were now screaming around her brain at such a tempo Lea couldn’t think.

_He’s not coming back._

_Somehow, Vivienne has stolen him, her last act of revenge. And it’s all my fault._

‘It isn’t your fault. Stop blaming yourself and focus. You can do this, Lea.’

Trystan’s calm, authoritative voice broke through Lea’s snarling wall of white noise, her vision refocussing as she blinked several times. Thankful it was just her, Trystan and Cadan present, she gave herself a rough mental shake, pushing one heel off the wall and prowling forward to the mahogany desk.

‘I can indeed,’ she muttered in response, fixated on a dull brass handle as she made her way to the back of the room. ‘Thank you for the reminder. No change in lyrium stocks or theft, you say Cadan?’

‘None at all,’ Cadan affirmed, his gaze narrowed and wary as Lea came to a halt on the other side of the table. ‘There is something you aren’t telling us, sister. Now is not the time for secrets.’

_The blue song pulses through his veins once more, loud enough that I must compete with its seduction for his attention._

_We must join forces, you and I. It is the only way, if you want to save him!_

Lea couldn’t tell her two devoted brothers the truth. They would lock her up and subject her to the full force of Chantry doctrine. She had one faint hope that was rapidly diminishing the more time she wasted stuck in the fortress. Biting her tongue so hard a spurt of salty metallic warmth flooded her mouth, she shifted away from Cadan’s increasingly suspicious glare, welcoming the sharp pain jagging down her throat.

_Did I tell you that I don’t take kindly to being bested, Inquisitor?_

_Your paltry efforts to steal him away from me are as nothing to the arsenal your nemesis has gathered against us both……_

Lea stared down at the gleaming signet ring, the flash of gold standing out against the whites of her knuckles. She fought off the sickening dread, allowing the fury to take control just as she’d done earlier. Sparks of blue shot from the top of the staff she’d been gripping tight since she’d stormed from her quarters only half an hour earlier.

‘Vivienne has, somehow, persuaded Cullen to leave. That much I have shared with you both. There is more. If my guess is right, she has also persuaded him to take lyrium.’

_That the guess comes from a desire demon’s poisoned promises is something I won’t share._

_How much of himself has he had to sacrifice, just to save me?_

The demon’s stark warning and howl of contempt rang in her ears. Lea had eventually banished the spectre in the Fade. She was not possessed, but the base desire to best the demon at its own game was temptation indeed.

This was not Imshael. No, this was something far, far worse.

‘Vivienne is quite the master manipulator. Much though I hate to give that fucking slut any kind of credit, but we must be honest. Vivienne was always one of the best strategists of her generation.’ A foul taste was in Lea’s mouth, just preventing herself from spitting out her disgust. ‘It would give her no greater pleasure than to fuel Cullen’s addiction. She knows the effect it will have on us both.’

The final sting in the scorpion’s tale. A detail that would delight Vivienne in its cruelty. Cullen resuming the daily draughts of lyrium would only affect him and Lea adversely, but to bully him back into a life of addiction he’d fought so hard to reject? Vivienne would see that as the icing to cement her victory over Lea in their bitter war.

Trystan and Cadan’s shock rapidly assimilated into brutal acceptance of the truth, both of them knowing to not interrupt Lea’s furious train of thought. She gestured at the desk drawer, her lips twisting in a grim smile.

‘You all know that Cullen keeps vials of lyrium here in his top drawer. Four of them. A vital part of his hidden battle against the power of lyrium’s lure. Testing himself, for some bizarre reason.’ A mirthless laugh escaped her, Lea biting off the sob that immediately followed. ‘I sometimes saw him when he thought I was sleeping. Cullen would sit at his desk, late at night, unable to sleep. He’d have the philters in his hands, staring at them while he slipped off into some distant universe. Sometimes muttering to himself, as if he was having a conversation with someone else.’

_I know what, now._

_Your days are numbered, demon. You will never have him, not as long as I draw breath!_

Lea caught Trystan’s anguished expression. Her heart bled all over again for what her beloved brother was soon to go through in his own campaign against the Chantry’s lethal tool of coercion.

‘It’s not easy, my dearest brother,’ Lea whispered, unsure if she could survive Trystan’s loss to the call of the blue madness. ‘But just as you told me I could do this – so can you. But it will hurt, you and others around you. Cullen’s nightmares were not just a result of Kinloch Hold. I won’t say more – the trials you’ll face are unique to each individual. Just know that the four vials you and Leliana thought you knew about? There is always a way to create more, and undetected, isn’t there?’

‘What? There’s more? That’s not possible!’ Cadan blurted out, yanking open the drawer to the left of the desk. ‘I searched this myself five times – there’s nothing here! Four vials, just as you said, Lea. Untouched.’

‘Did you ask a Templar to look?’ Trystan said abruptly, comprehension dawning. ‘Where is Cullen’s lyrium kit?’

‘Here,’ Lea replied shakily, her hand falling on a familiar, loathed box. ‘He didn’t take it with him – but that doesn’t mean anything. Did you check inside, to see if the embrium were still there?’

‘Embrium? Of course it was but….oh shit….’

Cadan swore profusely, spinning around to face the other side of the desk. All three of them were focussed on the simple wooden box, Lea’s hands shaking as she found the catch. The lid fell open in front of them, exposing the tools the Chantry so casually distributed to make slaves of its most devoted servants.

‘This figure of Andraste.’

A tear escaped down Lea’s cheek as she remembered. A solitary figure in the shadows of night when he thought she was sleeping. Hunched over his desk, shivering, staring into nothing.

‘Cullen would sit there, running a finger endlessly over the statute’s form. Sometimes silently, sometimes, praying, sometimes in anger. Questioning, ever seeking a resolution from the nightmare of withdrawal. Asking…..asking why the Maker saw fit to send me into danger, day after day, leaving him with nothing to do but sit here and wait it out. Believe me, I know this box almost as well as Cullen does.’

Her trembling fingers found the stash of dried herb. The cloying scent of embrium made Lea recoil for a second while Trystan gently picked up the small silken pouch. He held it for less than a second, wordlessly laying to one side as he looked at the rest of the tools. Soon, the remaining items were spread out. Lea raised an unsteady hand, whispering a spell under her breath.

As the weave of Spirit and Earth drifted over each implement, Lea’s worst fears were confirmed.

‘This oxidisation is recent, and there’s no way that is a complete package of embrium. Only a Templar would know the difference, however. We are taught to cut our supplies carefully to avoid waste.’ Trystan’s heavy words hammered home the horrible reality, the blunt tools of a Templar’s addiction clearly singed from use, revealed under Lea’s spell. ‘You heat the embrium on this spoon like so….bloody hell, I can’t avoid the truth of this. Cullen has taken lyrium again. I’d estimate around four vials to match the ones in his draw. He’s just disposed of the vials somehow, and wherever he’s going presumably he’s confident of a supply.’

‘It’s simple enough to filch four glass bottles when so many get smashed every day,’ Cadan agreed, his fingers tangling through his hair as he scowled down at the irrefutable evidence. ‘Much easier to disguise than taking from existing lyrium stocks. And if Vivienne is indeed the one behind his disappearance then she won’t have a problem procuring lyrium on Cullen’s behalf.’

_The demon told the truth. For as much as it served its purpose to do so._

_Oh my love, we must tread so carefully, or both of us will surely fail._

‘I will find out why he did this and I will find out why Vivienne felt the need to spirit away my Commander. She has not gone to all this effort merely to spite me, of that I am certain.’ There was no time to weep, no time to imagine the horrors that Cullen was going through, to be driven to take lyrium once more. ‘Where is everyone? I presume there is some sort of plan afoot, with Alistair here? We have lost a month with my being out of it, and there is no more time to waste. We are done.’

‘Everyone is waiting for you, Lea, in the War Room.’ Trystan affirmed, rapidly putting away the kit and closing the top drawer. ‘Don’t blame yourself either, Cadan, for missing the clue. It is but one part in a much larger, murkier picture that we won’t get to the bottom of any time soon.’

‘Quite so, Cadan.’ Lea gestured for her two brothers to join her in her rapid march down the battlements as she slung her staff onto her back. ‘And no – don’t ask after me. Cullen’s lyrium addiction is something personal to Cullen and I and I  - I will deal with it in my own way. It is as Trystan says – but because it’s Cullen I had to…I had to be sure I was right…’

Trystan looked sharply at her as they stepped out into the frosty morning, Lea pulling the hood of the black fur cloak tightly over her head to hide her face in its shadows. Trystan and Cadan knew her too well, and it was imperative they didn’t discover her secret source of knowledge. She’d been destroyed by a desire demon once and was all too aware of the danger in their honeyed falsehoods.

_But it’s Cullen and I have no choice, no other leads, nothing._

The furious blaze of magic that had followed her earlier was gone as she bullied her emotions back under control. Lea was unseeing of anything around her in her haste to get to the War Room, figure out a solution and get on her horse out of Skyhold. Every inch of her was screaming in agony.

_Cullen holding that bottle to his lips….and this time, he did it._

_Why, my love? What did she do to you!_

Lea had to stop herself from shaking uncontrollably, prevented only by the propulsion of her body forward as she stamped one foot in front of the other. Her eyes were watering and her very core was frozen, her jaw clamping shut to stop the more obvious tremors. The cold and tears had nothing to do with the icy blizzard turning her cheeks raw – Lea very rarely noticed such extreme weather.

She was doing her best to not blink.

Every time she did, she was greeted with the sight of Cullen about to drink from a philter of lyrium. She’d been able to prevent it from happening that one time, the only way she’d known how. Just like then, now such an act of desperation of freezing him to the spot had driven them apart. This time, though, Lea was hopelessly aware it would take more than magic to bring him back. For all she knew, he’d never be able to return to her, a lyrium addict to the tormented end.

Before she collapsed in a gibbering mess into the snow, Lea gave herself a severe mental slap. It was only through sheer will that she pushed onwards towards massive oak doors that were swinging open for the Inquisitor and her escort. Fists raised to chests in salute greeted her as they swept into the Main Hall, Lea belatedly remembering that to show any signs of weakness in this particular battleground could signal the end. Until she figured out a plan, the best way to save Cullen was to feign supreme indifference.

She’d spent years supressing any form of emotion, the only way at the moment to help her missing soulmate to fall back on such dubious talents that she’d taught herself in the Circle. One swipe of her cuff removed the moisture, Lea pushing back her hood as she drew herself to her not inconsiderable full height. Her staff ignited blue in her hands, a symbol of power to remind any of Vivienne’s spies just who they were dealing with and putting the final touches to her charade.

‘We are Treveylans,’ Lea murmured, her gaze hard as she clutched the ironbark to keep herself upright. ‘Let us remind Madame de Fer what she is up against. I have no doubt her spies are here. The Great Game is very much in play, my brothers – a Game I fully intend to win.’

A swift nod of approval from Cadan and the tilt of Trystan’s head as he gestured for her to lead was all she needed, the three of them sweeping grandly past the guards.

The assembled nobles in the Great Hall, mainly Orlesians much to her confusion, gasped and whispered behind their lace gloves as she stormed past. Once upon a time their faux outrage would have had Lea in stiches while Cullen made dark noises about the dubious virtues of nobility. There was no such safety blanket for her today. Only the frosty disdain she wrapped around herself – Lea’s last mantle of defence – kept such ghastly hangers on at bay, ably assisted by the menacing presence of the Inquisitor’s formidable siblings as her escort.

The cluster of dignitaries were about as much interest to Lea as dung on a spoilheap. In no time at all, Lea had arrived at the War Room, beyond frantic for information that she hoped her fellow companions could supply. Grinding to a sudden halt in the doorway, her heart sank, stunned at just how depleted her group seemed to be. Every single face warily observed her, the sense that she was some kind of wild animal about to turn refusing to leave Lea be.

‘Black-Rainer? Cole? Bull? Morrigan is no surprise, but where – never mind. I’d rather not have yet another mage with far more knowledge than is good for us all scheming for my downfall too. If people can’t find it within them to support me now I’ve fucking well saved their worthless hides, then so be it!’

The remainder of her faithful friends started in surprise at her snarl of rage and unjustified attack on those not there to defend themselves. Lea missed the ghost of a nod between Cadan and Alistair, hating to see the hint of sympathy and sorrow all aimed in her direction as she stalked impatiently towards the map. Tearing off her gloves, it was only by digging her nails hard into her palms that prevented Lea from crumbling at the sight of the Inquisition Army markers.

Flashback after flashback of one of the most sensual and passionate nights she’d ever experienced was warring with the desolation and loss that her steadfast and brilliant Commander was no longer there to guide her. Lea’s world crumbled, her nails cutting deeper, struggling to regain her sense of self. The extremes of emotion were spinning out of control, Lea only managing to breathe as she closed her eyes briefly to compose herself.

_Enough self-pity!_

_If you fail in this, Inquisitor, all that you know will die. Of that, I can assure you._

With an irritated gesture against the unwanted intrusion in her mind, Lea rubbed her eyes as she gathered her wits together, Cadan shutting the heavy door with a thump. Dorian beat her to it as a shimmering ward of privacy encompassed the entire space, guaranteeing that there would be no disruptions.

‘This is a council of war, my friends,’ Lea stated without preamble, grateful for their understanding. ‘Please – let’s not get into an extended discussion of hellos and how are yous. There will be time enough for that. I am – I am – I must find him. I am awake, I am sane, I am ready to fight and I need your help. What is going on? Where is everyone? I hope they will forgive me for my earlier outburst.’ 

She took a deep breath, picking out each one of their faces and wincing again at the absence of others.

‘Leliana has left for Val Royeaux, I presume?’ The loss of another one of her trusted advisors hit Lea squarely in the chest. ‘Who is my new Spymaster?’

‘It is not a bad thing, Lea, to have a friend in such a high place. Divine Victoria waited for as long as she could, but had to leave only a few hours before you awoke.’ Lea sighed at Dorian’s blunt reminder of just how much had changed. ‘We will arrange for you to see her in due course. Have you forgotten that your own twin is as much Leliana’s equal, not to mention the talents of our Ambassador? Interesting times they must be having, working – .’

‘We are all delighted to have you returned to us in good health, Inquisitor,’ Josephine interrupted quickly – not quickly enough for Lea to miss the daggers glare she threw at Dorian. Even in her heightened state of distress Lea noticed with dismay the distance between her twin and her Ambassador. ‘Everything is under control and there is a detailed report waiting for you to read. Leliana has been training her successor for some time now. Do not worry on that score.’

‘Ranier has headed to Weisshaupt,’ Alistair added smoothly, unconsciously taking control of the situation to detract attention away from the former couple. ‘Before we go into the why, let me update you, Inquisitor. Cole said he would go where he was most needed and we haven’t seen him for weeks. Of Solas, we have no idea. Aras has vanished too, gone a couple of weeks before Cullen. The Iron Bull has left on a secret mission of utmost importance, the details of which we will go into shortly. Morrigan departed the moment you stirred, apparently. Typical.’

Lea accepted a note, a sharp intake of breath at the stark warning written within.

_You have power, Inquisitor, more than you realise. Yet forces are aplay which have been set in motion these thousand years past. Corypheus was but a symptom of a far deeper malaise, one that has rocked Thedas to its very foundations. You may not trust me, but you understand that I will stop at nothing to secure a safe future for my son. I caution you against chasing after the Commander, yet I understand, more than you realise, why you too will stop at nothing to ensure his wellbeing. Fools in love, the both of you, and that will be your undoing if you continue blundering into the obvious._

_We do what we must, do we not? Remember that, before you cast me to the wolves. We shall meet again when the time is right – on that you have my word._

_Morrigan_

‘I have no idea what this means.’ The sound of crumpling parchment in Lea’s palm was loud in the stillness of the room. ‘Morrigan has gone, of course, and says I shouldn’t _chase_ after Cullen. What the fuck else am I meant to do? Sit down to tea with the Emperor and Magisters of Tevinter and act as their nursemaid for the rest of my life?’

‘I don’t need to read it to know that it’s the usual Morrigan mumbo jumbo but I’m always one to be amused by her poor attempts at civility,’ Alistair said lightly, relieving Lea of the unwanted letter. ‘Let’s be honest though, she’s carrying around the voice of a thousand dead Elven priests in her head so she’s going to be even more obscure than usual. I’ll read it later with Varric, see if we can make any sense of it.’

‘Deciphering cryptic messages from ancient witches is quite my speciality, your Highness,’ Varric mused, gesturing for the others to gather closer. ‘Always a pleasure to be of service.’

‘Can’t believe you’re saying that about one of them rich nobs,’ Sera muttered, eyeing Alistair with both confusion and mistrust. ‘That said, you’re not like all the rest of them. Just like Quizzy. Won’t put an arrow in you just yet.’

‘I’m deeply honoured,’ Alistair replied with a courtly bow and wide grin at Sera’s wince of disgust. ‘We need more people like you, my Red Jenny.  Tell me, is there still a certain tanner in Denerim’s Market District that I should keep in contact with? Useful fellow to Freya, had a bit of a squint and a hell of a reek about him.’

‘Piss, literally – oh how did you!’ Sera stared owlishly at Alistair in astonishment, before bursting out into laughter. ‘Yeah, you’re alright. You know what Quizzy, with this lot by your side, you’ll have your Cully Wully home before you realise it.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ The burst of light-heartedness completely passed Lea by, her eyes fixed on the complexities of international politics that was displayed on the map. ‘Doing something sure beats lingering in the Fade feeling sorry for myself. Maker save me, what is going on in the world? I am out for a month and all hell breaks loose?’

‘That’s about right, Lea,’ Cassandra said with a grimace. ‘Tevinter is about to fight a war on two fronts with Orlais and Par Vollen. The Avvar are on the move again and we have darkspawn reappearing in Ferelden.’

‘Darkspawn!’ Lea was appalled as she looked aghast at Alistair. ‘Another Blight?’

‘No, nothing as calamitous as that,’ Alistair assured her. ‘There have been a series of earthquakes around the Storm Coast – near the Inquisition’s harbour for sail to the Free Marches. It’s disrupted some of the entrances we thought had been re-sealed. The issue is more that there are earthquakes in the first place. The dwarves are investigating, but we’ve not had word as yet.’

‘That’s a blessing, Frosty,’ Varric grunted. ‘The last place you want to take a vacation is the Deep Roads.’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ Alistair quipped back, laughing at Varric’s groan. ‘Brood mothers, crazed Paragons, darkspawn Alphas and even an Ancient Magister. It’s quite the action packed adventure for those who like a bit of a change from the norm.’

‘There’s something going on that we may not like in the Deep Roads, Frosty, that’s the long and short of it. But what? I couldn’t tell you right now.’ Varric pointedly ignored Alistair’s light chuckle as he gestured to the Frostback Basin. ‘Can I recommend the southern Frostback Mountains as a particularly fascinating getaway? Giants and resurrected gods, along with unchecked spirits and a barbarian horde might be more your thing.’

‘The Avvar? I would have thought they were the least of our worries. Let them tear each other apart for now. They’ve been doing so for centuries.’ Trystan had moved up to the table to join them. ‘We’ve given you the basic overview of what we know, Lea. There is a major war brewing in Tevinter. Not just with the Qun, but there are persistent rumours of rebellion from serfdom in Orlais and the slave ranks in Tevinter.’

‘Eamon’s going to have his hands full with the Avvar,’ Alistair acknowledged. ‘That’s more than enough for Ferelden right now, along with suppressing the darkspawn resurgence. My people have suffered enough and we are still rebuilding ten years on. No, Lea you don’t need to look to Ferelden for answers.’

‘He’s right. As for the whispers of rebellion – if only Fenris were around….but the last I heard he was lingering near the Tevinter border, entertaining himself by killing slavers whilst waiting in a convenient location for Hawke to return from Weisshaupt.’ Varric shook his head wryly. ‘No help from that quarter, but I’ll send a message. What about you, Sparkler?’

Dorian had remained uncharacteristically quiet as the remnants of the Inquisition leadership continued to debate the current political instability in Thedas. His piercing agate gaze added to the tumult of Lea’s unease, occasionally drifting down to Lea’s hands where her sharp nails were rhythmically clawing at her palms. Dorian alone knew of the self-manipulation Lea would push herself through to remain sane – a secret she’d managed to hide even from Cullen.

‘Our next move is logical is it not?’ Dorian responded eventually, the pointed look tossed in her direction telling Lea she wasn’t off the hook. ‘Before I go into more detail, why don’t you disclose your hidden knowledge to the room, Inquisitor? It’s not just about Cullen is it? The three of you look like you’d eaten a wasp’s nest when you entered.’

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere for Lea to question whether her interpretation of a desire demon’s venom was horribly wrong. Cullen wasn’t going to come waltzing through the door, sweep her up in a breathless kiss and assure her she was wrong. Lea had miscalculated so badly it had cost both of them something far more precious than merely living.

 ‘Vivienne has him. Somehow, she’s reversed the Rite of Tranquility. And, not only that – he has taken lyrium once more.’

Her brain was racing at a pace of knots, her heart thumping as she focussed on the dagger jutting out in the middle of the map. The pattern of Inquisition activity all led to the heart of the Empire, Josephine, Trystan and Leliana’s markers depicting the weight of their efforts at ensuring an unsteady peace was maintained.

‘Lyrium!’ That was something Dorian clearly hadn’t bargained for, his usual sangfroid vanishing at such unexpected news. ‘Maker’s Breath, Cullen, what have you done!’

‘I don’t understand it. He was past the worst of the withdrawal – I’ve never seen anyone cope with withdrawal as well as Cullen, for that matter. To give that up, for what?’ Cassandra too was visibly shaken. ‘Are you sure?’

‘As much as we can be,’ Trystan confirmed sadly. ‘The embrium in his kit was still plentiful, but cleverly cut. Unless you’re a Templar who knows how to eek out the most of their supply, you wouldn’t know the difference. He must have bargained on Leliana searching, but not realising the significance until he was long gone.’

‘I performed a basic redox spell. It was easy enough to prove that way.’ Lea still couldn’t believe it. She refused to accept that Cullen had not only left her, but put his life in potentially irrevocable danger.

Just as the demon had promised.

_Addict, addict…_

_And he’s done it for you, you ungrateful whore….what makes you so special that Cullen would die for you and not me?_

The demon’s spiteful words drifted into Lea’s mind while her companions continued to debate and share their disbelief. Cullen had been a leading light in the Inquisition, not just for his exceptional military and leadership talents, but for all the Templars who had joined – and who had either quit lyrium or had pledged to, such as Trystan. That some of their comrades had died or been left handicapped in the attempt didn’t put the former soldiers of the Chantry off – because they had Cullen to look up to.  

His vision, the hope he gave to so many, was no more. Because of her. Cullen had done it for her. Hi sacrifices would never, it seemed, be enough for a Maker who demanded – in Lea’s opinion – too high a price.

_Your efforts are above and beyond, as always, my Commander._

_They will not be in vain._

‘Piss on that fucking bitch,’ Sera spat out, as usual articulating what they were all thinking but were too inhibited to publically declare. ‘Likes of her can’t travel without attracting attention. Vivienne feels the need to grandly announce herself to the world even more then that showy Vint in the corner. Now I’ve got my mark, it gets real easy. I’ll even polish my arrowheads all shiny and that, just for her.’

‘Wait,’ Cassandra cautioned. ‘Let’s tackle one issue at a time. Your Red Jennies are an invaluable network, but we must remember there is a reason Cullen disappeared so quietly, or that he went voluntarily at all. If Vivienne is at the heart of the matter, then we must exercise extreme caution. Merely killing her could create a chain reaction of disastrous consequences.’

‘Quite right, Seeker.’ Varric’s uncharacteristic agreement with Cassandra had her blissfully oblivious to most of the room hiding their smirks at her astonishment from Varric’s endorsement. ‘We’ll get her Buttercup, don’t you worry. Right now I have other plans for your crew that may involve a few noble heads rolling in the process. Just for you, mind.’

‘Well in that case…’ Sera brightened once more, her scowl of disapproval wiped away by a sunny smile. ‘Can’t have Quizzy and Cully Wully separated for too long, mind you. Need each other, innit. Might get him to stop doing stupid shit like taking lyrium if she’s around.’

‘Yes, thank you Sera,’ Josephine interrupted briskly, looking straight at Lea with a frown of concern. ‘It will take a clear head to deal with Madame de Fer. There are three pressing questions we must resolve. How did she reverse the Rite? What has this to do with Tevinter, and how does this link to Cullen? You seem to be taking all this remarkably calmly, Inquisitor. Not that I am complaining, mind you.’

_If only she knew._

_The voices never stop screaming. It’s merely depends how long I can keep my hysteria at bay before Dorian catches me at it again._

The room stilled at Lea’s gesture for silence. She needed space to concentrate, to reason out the madness that the world seemed to have become in her month of slumber. Closing her eyes momentarily, she let the whispers of the Fade slip through her conscious, warnings from the desire demon and Solas filtering through as her scrambled wits sluggishly responded.

‘Tevinter,’ Lea breathed quietly, the last piece of the puzzle clicking in her mind when she caught sight of Dorian’s slight gesture of agreement. ‘It is the only place she can resurrect herself, where a mage of her talent and political ambition would be feted rather than persecuted. Where the Venatori still have some sway, and where abusers of magic are celebrated. Vivienne is taking Cullen to Tevinter.’

‘It was where we focussed our efforts, albeit for different reasons.’ Alistair pointed to Val Royeaux and the smaller kingdoms to the west of Tevinter. ‘Dorian received intelligence that points to a major upheaval of the Magisterium – one that might even require your presence to resolve. Similarly, Antivia and the Free Marches all report significant numbers of elves on the move, while Gaspard is having to appease his traditionalists by enforcing even stricter regulations on the alienages – trouble leading from Tevinter. All routes point towards Minrathous.’

‘For which we should all be profoundly grateful. I for one am a bit weary of fortress hospitality. Why the marvels I can now show you. The cradle of civilisation. The bosom of humanity. The font of all wisdom. Etcetera etcetera.’ Sarcasm dripped from Dorian’s every word as he sauntered towards the rest of them. ‘It should suit our friend Vivienne right down to the ground. Intrigue, deceit and betrayal was born in Tevinter, my friends. Let’s remember this is not all about her though. Contrary to what she may delude herself into believing, Vivienne is not responsible for the brewing war in northern Thedas.’

‘No. She’s merely capitalising on the troubles and building her own power base. Although, quite frankly they can all rot in the sewer for all I care. There’s only one thing I am interested – oh fuck!’

Lea broke off as bile choked her, her fists slamming into her temples. She stared in horror, firstly at Dorian, before her frantic gaze sought out Varric.

‘What was the name of your cousin?’ she demanded. ‘The one we sent Templars to all those months ago? Mae….’

‘Maevaris. What’s she got to do with any of this shit?’

‘No no, not because of her. Magic, Templars, Tevinter. There is a pattern.’ Lea started to pace the room in agitation, heedless of the rising concern for her palatable in the atmosphere as she continued to talk to herself.

She was, once again, caught up reliving a different place and a different time, where she’d learnt the art of manipulation and cunning at the feet of a master, twisting truths and fabricating falsehoods till the lines between right and wrong no longer existed – only survival at any cost. It went against the very fibre of who she was, honesty, integrity and basic common decency drummed out of her until only the cloak of icy disdain and hauteur remained. Lea’s rise to dominance, always staying one step ahead of the rest of the jealous, sniping pack of hyenas beneath her had been all-consuming.

Only the fall of the Circle and her own redemption in the Inquisition had saved Lea from a lifetime of callous disregard and self-interest at the expense of anyone who got in her way _._

‘I know you better than you know yourself. You wouldn’t take Cullen unless there was – fuck, that’s it! You fucking selfish bitch....’

_You die. The moment I see you, you die._

‘Lea, you’re not making sense! Talk to us – we can help you reason this out!’

Cadan’s alarmed request nudged her racing thoughts back into the present. Lea had a reputation for thinking a mile a minute, and now was no exception as she stared wildly about the room. The seemingly random dots on the map all came together in one jolt of blinding clarity. She didn’t care that she was fixated on Cullen, to the exclusion of all else. The seismic events across the globe held little meaning for her, aside from configuring her thought process right along the same lines as her former mentor.

‘Not her, dammit, not the magister. The Templars! Remember the reason we sent them?’ Lea’s voice rose shrilly, willing them all to see. ‘Remember the havoc they caused, because the mages of Tevinter had no idea how to cope! Look at Erimond, for fuck’s sake! Do we need more of an example?’

‘What? He’s still locked away, I promise – oh dear Maker….’ Trystan had rapidly arrived to the same conclusion she had.

‘She needs a Templar, one who is powerful enough to help her secure her base in Tevinter. There are few who are Cullen’s equal, aside from Trystan, Rylen and one or two others.’ Alistair spoke out loud what Lea couldn’t put words to, her rage leaving her incoherent, blood roaring in her ears.

‘Indeed, my dear Alistair,’ Dorian agreed urbanely, a sardonic smile on his lips. ‘All of the southern Templars are in service to the Inquisition, dead from their foolish little war or addicted to red lyrium – the ones left, at any rate. Which is as good as dead, is it not? Either way, they aren’t in Minrathous, which leaves Vivienne with a clean sheet to cause utter havoc. I almost wish I was there to watch the fun. Cullen can be quite terrifying when he chooses to be.’

‘Well you would, wouldn’t you. So would I, for that matter. Can’t beat a roomful of Magisters wetting themselves. What fun that would be to see!’ Sara retorted gleefully, before chewing a nail with a thoughtful expression. ‘Still though, got to respect the bitch. She’s got some persuasive skills. Magic. What a crock of shit.’

‘That’s a very good point.’ Alistair’s uncharacteristic frown deepened. ‘What in Andraste’s name kind of hold does Vivienne have over Cullen, though, that could persuade him to even give her the time of day and not strike her down? Out of all of you, he’s the one who should be infallible to her persuasion, let alone consume that poison to aid her!’

There was the crux of the issue, so neatly laid out by Alistair. It made no sense to Lea, in her weakened and emaciated state, her mind working overtime as disaster scenario after disaster scenario bombarded her vision. Leaning heavily on her staff, she rested her cheek against the cool of the ironbark. As the voices of her friends rose and fell around her, she battled against the instinct to sag and flop to the floor, the pain in her bones and joints from such a long period of misuse spelling out every ache and injury she’d inflicted on herself in the long months of campaigning against Corypheus.

Truth be told, so much had happened in such a rapid space of time Lea was struggling to process anything at all. The only thing whipping her on to new heights of internal frenzy was the driving need to find Cullen and put an end to a lifelong threat she should have dealt properly with all those months ago at the Winter Palace. That she’d gone for the vindictive route had come back to savage her, and perhaps deservedly so.

_This is what happens when you don’t tie up your loose ends, when you let pride interfere with practicality._

_All your doing, Lea. With no one to point the finger at except yourself. Vivienne is just being true to form, after all._

Lea had no idea how Vivienne had arranged all that she had, to come back from the Rite and whisk Cullen away from her to a life of dubious leisure in the Tevinter Empire, but she knew without any doubt that was the case. She was grateful at least that her companions hadn’t questioned her too closely, although Lea sensed that some were well aware that she was skirting the very edge of truth. The grilling would come later – of that she was sure. She just hoped she’d be halfway to wherever she needed to be before that happened.

_Speaking of which…._

‘There’s no time to delay. They must be halfway to Tevinter by now, if not more so. The rest we can figure out en-route, but right now I want my horse saddled and us ready to leave in the half-hour…ooof…’

As she turned to go and get ready she started to fall, Lea’s shaky legs giving way underneath her. Only Alistair’s quick movements saved her, two strong arms pinning her against him in a bear hug as a broken sob of emptiness and exhaustion broke free. Resting her head against Alistair’s shoulder, Lea suddenly found she couldn’t move, heaving breaths as she fought for composure, her face buried in the thick wool cloth of his cloak. She was aware of little as she remained propped up against one of her oldest friends, the worried chatter of noise fading away. Lea didn’t care. All that mattered was persuading the people who loved her that she was able to ride and able to function.

Except, given how hard her teeth were chattering, Lea wasn’t sure she’d be able to be that convincing.

‘I think…yes let’s do that. She needs peace and quiet and rest….this has been too much for her….’

All of a sudden she felt herself being swept up and carried against a solid chest. Lea couldn’t tighten her grip on anything even if she wanted to. Her hands had stopped functioning and her mind was shutting down, overwhelmed by the amount of information she’d processed in such a short space of time. She refused to recognise that she’d only just awoken out of another period of extreme trauma, frantic in her need to hunt down and free Cullen, killing Vivienne in the bloodiest way possible in the process.

Physically, however, her body failed her, Lea unable to do anything more than close her eyes and rest against Alistair’s arm as he carried her gently to her chambers. She was vaguely aware of Trystan to one side and Cadan to the other, both of them peeling off to stand guard outside her rooms. Her mind was screaming orders for her companions to follow yet only low moans emitting from her mouth. Frustrated, she sagged back, battling against another wave of loss as she remembered a pair of arms just as strong carrying her to safety time and time again.

‘It’s alright, Lea, we will resolve this. But you’ve over done it – you only woke a couple of hours ago.’ Alistair’s voice rumbled through Lea as he steadily climbed up the stairs to her room. ‘Some more sleep, a bath and a hearty meal and I promise you that we’ll be under way. We’ve just got to figure a few things out. You’re no good to Cullen unless you rest. I’m a poor substitute, as I told him once, but I’m here for you.’

‘I’m glad you are,’ Lea managed to croak out as Alistair deposited her in the middle of her bed. ‘You always have been, you and Freya. We haven’t – Maker, Alistair there is just so much to say to you and I can’t….’

‘Ssssh. You don’t have to. Cullen, forgive me for what I am about to do but I will not look. Your lady needs to be warm and comfortable for sleep right now. Lea, I am feeding you some cake and pie when you wake up – this armour is not meant to be so loose on you and I know because you and Freya share such similar tastes….’

Alistair’s light scolding as he deftly stripped Lea out of her armour and tucked the sheets around her didn’t register as Lea’s eyelids drooped. She was barely aware of his hands easing off the leather, blessed relief to be warm and comfortable in her bed the predominant feeling as her mind cried out in its compulsion to run to Cullen as soon as she feasibly could.

_I will…..I must…_

_She has him, how does she have him, what did I do……_

Round and round, the thoughts chased each other – Vivienne, Cullen, lyrium all colliding into one toxic blur. But she couldn’t move, paralysed by months of illness and mental abuse. There was a pattern she was missing, their lives hanging in the balance if she couldn’t remember. Colours clashed together as Lea started to panic, fighting frantically against the surge of blackness pulling her down to oblivion.

_There’s no time…..no sleep please……_

_The warning….there was a warning….I need to tell someone before it goes…._

 ‘Alistair….you must know…..’

Lea’s mouth opened, but nothing came out, gasping like a fish out of water as she tried to find words that refused to come. The world went dark, the spinning circles in her brain fading as exhaustion claimed her. The urgent message, that they were all being sucked into something well beyond her control was lost, Lea’s flash of intuition gleaned from her Fade wanderings dissipating into nothing.

\-----

In a quick few moments, Alistair nodded his satisfaction that Lea had mercifully slipped into a deep, healing sleep. For a second he’d been convinced Lea had been trying to speak, much to his astonishment, but decided he was seeing things as a result of his own bone-numbing weariness. It had been but a fleeting sensation given that Lea, mercifully, had passed out the moment he’d tucked her into bed. With nothing else to do but stand in for his friend and nurse the ever-present ache of longing for a woman he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again, Alistair settled into Cullen’s armchair to plot his own rescue plan.


	6. More Art :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry updates are so slow. I've been travelling a lot for work and also we're a bit of a poorly family at the moment with husband and daughter still ill. The next chapter is about half done and I hope to have it up in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, here's some amazing art of Cullen and Lea fighting some Red Templars together courtesy of the ever incredible [Gerry Arthur](http://gerryarthur.deviantart.com/art/Temple-of-Dumat-Battle-647008040) :)

I really wanted something different of the two of them together. Not that there's anything wrong with the romantic stuff and I have that planned to be drawn too! But to see Cullen and Lea like this just reminds me of that opening scene in DAI where the Inquisitor and Cullen first meet, grimy and exhausted from the battle and yet they still fight on refusing to quit....

Cullen and Lea greatly respect each other's combat skills and both take so much pride fighting alongside each other as well. *Siiiggghhh* heads back to writing - I miss them both!

 

 


	7. Hope Reborn

Cullen irritably flicked away the random strand of hay clinging to his horse’s mane, ignoring the seething muck and squalor. Crumbling hovels with cracked windows and smashed doors were home to the stinking press of impoverished humanity, ground down by generations of forced servitude. Dozens of pairs of dull eyes stared at him with naked resentment, assessing how long it would take to bring down this stranger in their midst and strip him of all his material wealth.

Not that Cullen cared. Paranoia was an enemy he’d learned to manipulate to his advantage over the long years following the Kinloch Hold massacre and, since his decision to take lyrium once more, the dark monster within him had merely intensified. Twisting the black fear into a tool to sharpen his ever-alert senses had become second nature. And, after all, a few addicts, prostitutes and petty criminals hardly presented a challenge.

What was of more concern to him was his nag stepping into the veritable sea of potholes, sending him headfirst into a swamp of dung, rotting offal and human waste. Just to be doubly sure, he concentrated once more on the slow plod of his mount, pulling his scarf up over his face to ward off the nauseating odour.

‘She would have wanted me to do it, to save you from that brute,’ Cullen murmured under his breath as he patted the warm neck with gratitude. ‘I will never be parted from her. Not if I keep true to myself and the beliefs we both hold dear. Besides, you’re doing a bit better as a result, aren’t you fellow?’

The light flicker of ears back towards him pulled Cullen’s lips into a tight smile. He glanced down at the dun coloured legs to check again that he was steering clear of all the Blighted holes on the destroyed surface. One step up from a carthorse, the poor beast he’d rescued from a thuggish mercenary was a far cry from the prized horseflesh he’d taken for granted in his former life. It hadn’t even been much of a fight, Cullen used to pitting his skills against the very best of Thedas’ fighters rather than brash young blades. Another idiot with more brawn than brain was little competition.

_Not like a certain Knight-Enchanter who repeatedly trounces me._

_Maker, what a magnificent woman she is…._

Unwittingly, his mind conjured up the tantalising vision of a tall, slender figure encompassed by a glowing nimbus of white light as she nonchalantly sent a demi-god packing back into the Fade. There was a translucent golden sword of magic in her fist, Leaena’s brilliant sapphire eyes alive with her hard-won victory. It was just enough prompting from his rebellious heart to remind Cullen all over again just what he’d gambled on – and so humiliatingly lost. The walls around his soul slammed up, granite and unyielding against the torrent of pain Leaena’s image bought on.

It was the only way to survive this living hell – to completely separate the man he’d striven so hard to be from the harsh reality that mocked his foolishness at every turn. He wasn’t about to let any chink in his armour show here, of all places. Whilst he wasn’t remotely worried about fending off attackers, it would be tedious in the extreme. Cullen was still, at the core, the model of practicality first and foremost.

Revealing any hint of emotion was a waste of energy he could no longer be bothered with. The wayward thought of Leaena was crushed mercilessly, Cullen focusing instead on a faded blue door barely held together by a concoction of string and rusty nails. Its still-garish shade stood out in stark contrast to the muddy grime characterising the other houses, the dusty path off the road mercifully free of the worst filth. Pulling to a halt, he rapidly dismounted, throwing the reins over a nearby post. The multitude of sullen glares that had covertly followed his progress watched, calculating their chances.

He allowed himself a dry inward chuckle. The interest in Cullen’s personal wealth rapidly disappeared at the cold ring of tempered steel being drawn from a battered scabbard. One warning was all it took to fend off the unwanted attention, his fist slamming the sword firmly back into place.

Cullen had little patience for fools at the best of times. As a result of his changed circumstances, his tolerance for prevarication had reduced to nothing. The chancers littering this warren of Val Chevin had judged Cullen’s shabby, unkempt appearance too quickly. The hostile crowd melted away in moments, the silent menacing aura a warrior of his stature effortlessly projected leaving a hush of spiteful whispers in his wake. Satisfied that his horse was, for the time being, safe, he schooled his scowl to one of neutrality, turned and ducked into the doorway of a darkened room.

The stench of burnt embrium assaulted far more than his nostrils, regret and loss for all that might have been blinding him momentarily in the smokey room.

_Not now damn you!_

_For her, you have to pull yourself together!_

Despite his brutal efforts to insulate himself against emotion, there was to be no mercy against the crushing sense of failure this particular visit represented. He expected the medicine of atonement to be harsh when he’d signed up to the Inquisition. Just how low he’d have to fall to ensure Cullen did his sworn duty by his Inquisitor was, however, not something he’d bargained for. This particular ordeal was by far the bitterest pill for him to swallow.

Taking a deep breath, Cullen’s gaze narrowed, falling squarely on the merchant smirking at him from behind the safety of a solid oak table. 

‘Don’t waste my fucking time by counting. You have thirty seconds to hand over the first batch.’

The Carta rat he’d deliberately sought out, in a place where names and appearances were forgotten for the right price, blinked at the blunt bark and dull thud of a heavy satchel hitting the table.

‘You’re a brave one, Templar, to make demands. Ain’t no amount of gold that can ever feed that addiction of yours enough.’ The dwarf barked out a guttural laugh, unperturbed as he emptied out a king’s ransom of jewels and coins onto the coarse surface. ‘You make for very steady customers though, especially you. That’s the longest route to Tevinter I’ve ever seen and without my help you’ll not access the lyrium you need. You can go to hell any which way you please….but my friends here will have a quick look over….gurghggh!!’

_Tevinter?_

_I was right, damn that bitch to the Veil!_

The Carta leader’s insolence was cut abruptly short, Cullen filing away that one comment for later reference. Ignoring the thugs waiting to muscle in and bored already of the conversation, he’d leant over the table, slamming the dwarf’s head down into the gemstones. One hand held the wildly flailing face steady while the other made a dismissive warning gesture to the other three Carta heavies in the room. They were no match for him, but to leave a trail in this miserable corner of Thedas with four dead bodies would be inviting trouble.

‘Have you gone deaf? Give me what we agreed, and you and your friends can wallow in the pit of human misery you’ve created. Otherwise I will hunt you all down. Each and every last one of you. I know where you peddle your filthy trade to those who are slaves to lyrium. And I will kill you all to end the devastation you bring. If you’re lucky I might even make it quick.’  

Cullen’s deadly promise hung in the air. The merchant was struggling to breathe, but Cullen knew there would be another twenty seconds or so before things got mildly critical. Perhaps even longer.

‘Liar! How do you – gnnghghhh!’

The sound of a solid fist connecting with a now-broken jaw held the occupants of the room fast. Only the strangled gasps of the merchant now dangling from Cullen’s arm, his fist firmly wrapped around the dwarf’s throat, and the muted moaning of the thug who’d tried to intervene cradling his ruined face, could be heard. Cullen dismissed it all, his hard stare fixed on the bulging eyes of the merchant who was frantically nodding his agreement to Cullen’s terms.

_She wouldn’t approve of the blood. Well, that’s not true. She’d laugh at me for immediately getting the proverbial hammer out to make my point._

_For all her famed impatience, Leaena is always far more subtle at getting her way than I._

‘Glad you’ve come to your senses. Now, seeing as I’m the cautious type, why don’t you give me the goods I’ve paid so handsomely for so I can check you aren’t fobbing me off with blue bilge water?’

With a crash, the merchant fell to the floor, whimpering orders. A weak wave of his arms had two of the minions scurrying out to the back, returning in seconds with two satchels. A quick glance inside showed Cullen the vials he needed till the next pickup point were all there. The seductive song whispering false promises weaved round his senses, leaving his head pounding in agony as he angrily pushed aside the immediate need to drink each one and never stop.

It was all he had, without Leaena. Seeing no point in lingering, he slung the bags over his shoulder, casting one final, forbidding look at the merchant still whining in pain on the floor.

‘You never saw me. If you make any attempt at identifying my name, you will die. If there are any of your cronies present at the subsequent drop-offs, they will die. You have been well paid for your silence. Remember, I can make that permanent if you try to cross me again.’

Cullen was fairly certain that the dire threats he’d issued would be at least partly ignored. The lure of gold was too much for those ever greedy to make a profit on the back of someone else’s misery. He’d done what he could and would have to trust that the backup part of his plan would work. It was magic he was unfamiliar with – but after a year with the Inquisition he was more than aware of just how little knowledge he really held on the subject.

Removing a gem from his pocket, Cullen deftly shielded his eyes as he flung the blazing white stone squarely into the middle of the room. There was no sound, just a thick atmosphere charged with magic from the silent explosion, rendering the dwarves unconscious at the same time. Swiftly he turned on his heel and headed back out into the street, relieved to see his horse was patiently waiting for him. The spell would wear off soon and leave the merchant and his fellows with the memory of the transaction, but not of him as an individual.

As for the people in the street, there was little Cullen could do to fog the memories of hundreds, but he trusted in both his unkempt appearance, deeply tanned skin complete with dyed dark hair, and the Carta’s greed to protect his identity. A few short strides had him back to his mount on the now deserted street, Cullen quickly adjusting the saddle bags to accommodate the new load of precious cargo. This was not a typical Carta safehouse, so there was no reason for anyone to link his visit with purchase of illegal lyrium supply…..

‘Hey mister! Spare a coin for a hungry soul – oi, there’s no need for that now, is there….’

A bright voice chirped up somewhere at Cullen’s feet, causing him to swear loudly as he stumbled. Taken completely aback by the unexpected interruption, Cullen’s sword was halfway out of its scabbard before reality sunk in. A young girl, no more than seven or eight years of age, was smiling falteringly at him, her grey eyes huge as she stared in alarm at the shining blade. She was skin and bone, her cheeks flushed with fever and her hands trembling as they automatically held out the coarse wooden begging bowl. She was a typical urchin of the rough streets of Val Chevin, a classic example of the poverty that so categorized this underclass – one that ruling Orlesians chose to conveniently forget.

‘I can’t do much for you.’ Cullen didn’t have it in him to turn down the mute plea in her eyes, but knowing that if he gave her anything she’d just be robbed of it by the adults that owned her, or beaten if she came back empty-handed. ‘But take this. I guess you’ve got somewhere to hide something extra for yourself?’

‘Oh.’ Grey eyes turned wide as they stared at the silver coin in the bowl, a gold coin disappearing into the threadbare folds of her dress. ‘I will ser knight, thank you!’

Not bothering to turn around and look at where the girl had gone, Cullen swung himself up into the saddle, setting off at a brisk trot. He made the mistake of taking a deep breath, the noxious air hitting his nostrils and turning his stomach.

_Ser knight?_

Once securely on his mount, Cullen made quick his escape from one of the most dismal places he’d had the misfortune to visit. His hand darted up to trace his nose and mouth, the telltale scar across his lip the one distinguishing feature he’d been unable to disguise. He was certain Leaena couldn’t trace him to Val Chevin in such a short space of time. While he prayed she’d stay put and out of trouble, he knew how forlorn a wish that was. Once awoken, Leaena would immediately know who the culprit was. It was imperative, therefore, that she didn’t follow him directly. Cullen hoped his lack of clues would leave the most obvious message – that to pursue him openly would put her life in immediate danger.

Maker, there wasn’t a moment throughout the day that missing her didn’t punch him squarely in his stomach. Quitting lyrium had been easier than walking away from Leaena’s comatose form, bruised, broken and battered. He wrote long letters to her daily, not caring that they were probably read by some nefarious magical spell. It was his sole means to express the depths of his desolation, but no matter the circumstances, he would never give up or give in.

Half of Cullen was convinced he’d never see Leaena again and half of him was convinced that they would, by some miracle, find a way to release her from the spiral of death she was unwittingly trapped within. He constantly worried over her state of mind once she found her way free of the Fade trap, terrified of her reaction when she discovered he’d resumed the life of a Templar once more.

‘No choice,’ Cullen growled under his breath, his words muffled by the loud crack of thunder above. ‘I had no choice!’

If he said it enough, perhaps he’d start to believe it.

The first drops of rain hit his nose, the slums already far behind. Steadily he weaved through the busy market streets leading to the North Gate. It was far easier to hide in a crowd than make himself obvious down a side street. Fortunately the less desirable areas were close to the city walls, Cullen spared the need to dodge pretentious lords and ladies who wouldn’t be able to see beyond his disguise anyway. He couldn’t imagine groveling in obeisance to anyone, let alone an Orlesian noble.

He absently flicked a coin to the gate guard and nudged his horse into a canter, riding as hard and as fast as he could away from the squalor and Carta presence that would even now, be seeking out who their rich, mysterious customer was. Gold worth twenty times the value of the lyrium shipments was set to exchange hands at every rendezvous on their hazardous journey. Of course, such wealth was never going to be enough to prevent a few opportunists from chancing their hand.

Hail and wind stung his cheeks, his long black cloak whipping behind him as Cullen bent low over his horse’s neck, whispering words of encouragement to spur the tired creature onwards. The muddy brown of sodden turf churned beneath thudding hooves, Cullen pushing the stalwart nag into a gallop. He needed to avoid the Imperial Highway to reach their woodland camp, inquisitive travelers and imperious Chevaliers demanding his attention something he had to avoid. One quick thundering gallop took a minute across its least-used stretch, his mount racing for the safety of the dark forest and security of shadows beyond.

The worst of the storm was broken by the thick canopy above. The steady flow of water off the wide brim of his battered felt hat onto the saddle pommel mingled with the roar of the river only a few hundred metres away. The steam of his breath and from the flanks of his horse were lost in the early evening mist. The brooding grey hues of the forest were devoid of any other animal life aside from him and his exhausted horse – the lack of anything resembling a human suiting his black temper perfectly. For a few more blessed minutes he was on his own.

Cullen would never have described himself as the most sociable person, and since leaving Skyhold, his withdrawal from the world became complete. There was no reason for him to try any longer. The secure warmth of Leaena’s magic no longer resided in him, the beautiful, glorious woman that embodied peace, stability and harmony lost. Duty was an ice-cold companion, the empty years of Kirkwall as nothing to the chilling finality he now had to endure.

The permanent, jarring ache intensified, Cullen pulling to a grinding halt in a blur of mental and physical agony. His head sank into his hands, a thousand knives stabbing his brain. His hat fell to the ground, unheeded, as loss so deep and profound tore through his soul. Tears he’d held back for so many weeks seeped through the cracked leather of his gloves, staining the hide of his mount, his breath harsh and laboured as he struggled for air. A keening moan escaped from his throat, hanging mournfully in the misty evening, the looming trees the only witness to his excruciating despair.

In his better moments, Cullen remembered why he was putting himself and Leaena through such torture. As a result of his departure, Leanea’s vital brilliance was alive and well. She would continue to live and fight on, find a way to bridge the thousands of miles that permanently separated them. Just knowing she survived was normally enough of a reminder to Cullen to hold his head high and continue to ride.

He contented himself with long hours daydreaming of his Inquisitor, her fiery passion and exuberance for life, her belief in each species’ inherent goodness, no matter how much they ripped Thedas apart. Her compassion for those less fortunate and her dedication to improving the lot of every living being in the world, no matter the personal cost to herself. Above all, Leaena’s bravery, in refusing to succumb to the very real demons that haunted her personally, day and night. She would lay her life down for every single one of them, from the scullery maid through to each member of the pampered, spoilt nobility.

_And her Commander._

He would never forget how the Inquisitor had saved him, over and over again, from his worst enemy, no matter the personal cost to herself. It was now his chance to return the favour.

Yet, in his lowest points, just like now, Cullen knew he didn’t deserve Leaena’s efforts on his behalf. It didn’t matter that each crippling burst of doubt was amplified by the demands of lyrium. It didn’t matter that the rational voice in him promised he would find a way to be reunited with Leaena one day, that every action was designed to throw his tormentor off-balance until an opportunity presented itself. The rational voice was very firmly shunted to one side.

There was no Leaena, only miles and miles of barren emptiness ahead. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Not being able to protect Leaena to the best of his ability had been a gnawing doubt in the pit of his belly from the second he’d caught her unconscious form over a year ago, becoming a cancerous growth that had latched onto his paranoia and spread at an uncontrollable rate every time she placed herself into danger. And, ironies of ironies, he’d had to embrace that which he despised most about himself to save her, just as he’d always feared.

Cullen slipped to his feet, leaning heavily on his mount. With a shaking hand, he fumbled in the saddle bag to the left, his trembling fingers closing over a precious vial. Even in the darkened gloom, the blue liquid glowed, the sweet smell hitting his senses as Cullen slowly removed the lid. The war of self-hatred and longing suffocated him, his angry tears of frustration trickling through his beard and down his neck.

‘Forgive me.’

Cullen’s anguished whisper dissipated into the bleak mist. His eyes roamed over the potion clutched in his fist. In the past, taking his lyrium draught had been as mundane as eating breakfast. Now, on most days it was easier to just take the lyrium and not think. On occasions such as this one, the fear raged, Cullen maintaining enough presence of mind to not let his captor see just how far he’d sunk. He forced himself to wait a moment more, blood roaring in his ears, his body coated in sweat – a hidden struggle with his mind which, if he gave in would brand him no better than the addicts who littered the streets of every major city in Thedas.

‘Not an addict!’ He ground out his defiance, refusing to accept the return to an existence he’d so thoroughly rejected. ‘I will quit again when we are reunited. This…this…. I took again, to be the best Templar I could be, for one last time. It’s the only way to counter….it’s all to save you, my lady. I made you that promise, all those months ago in Kirkwall. I am a man of my word, if nothing else.’

The final point he reminded himself of, every day, since he’d resumed his daily draughts just over a month ago.

Without missing a beat, Cullen tossed back the lyrium, the clamouring voices so intense delay was no longer an option. The tenseness in his muscles immediately eased as the syrup coated his throat and diffused into his bloodstream, Cullen sinking to his knees and swaying slightly as the rush of euphoria rocketed to his head. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back, the rain mingling with his tears to clear away Val Chevin’s filth. He sighed softly, unadulterated pleasure spinning its way across each nerve ending, feeling nothing but mindless relief as the never-ending thirst, had for moment, been quenched. A low groan was inevitable as the rush faded, to be replaced by a sated glow of wellbeing. If the ground wasn’t so sodden he’d curl up in a ball and lie there, floating off in a delirious cloud of intoxicated happiness.

Cullen loathed every second.

His vision was blurred and his movements slow, his eyes protesting as Cullen lifted his head. The lyrium flowed rhythmically, quicksilver humming through his veins. Any momentary respite he’d bought himself was immediately nullified as it protested loudly, automatically seeking out the sapphire of Leaena’s signature. Cullen had long realised that lyrium was a living thing he hosted inside his body, an alien creature that leant him such extraordinary power. The particular beast was now amplifying his heartache, Cullen missing his soulmate so much at that point it razed away any artificial sense of wellbeing the consumption of lyrium bought.

‘I miss you, Leaena, oh dear Maker I miss you!’

How his life had come to this, talking to himself in the middle of an empty forest, collapsed in a soaking pile of leaves while he travelled further and further away from a fundamental part of his being, Cullen had no idea. His faith, previously unshakable even with what he’d withstood in his entire life, was being pushed to the very brink.

‘Does it have to be this impossible?’ Cullen said quietly, staring at the empty phial between his fingers. ‘To love? Or to never have loved at all?’

His rhetorical question hung in the air, his mind working furiously. There was only one answer.

_To never have met Leaena?_

_To never have experienced such an all-encompassing love? With no judgements and no reservations? To be taken simply for the man I am and not what I represented?_

The sound of shattered glass hitting a tree trunk several metres away accompanied the startled whinny of his horse from the unexpected activity. Cullen had rapidly climbed to his feet, hurling the empty vial away with all his strength. He stood motionless for a few minutes, gazing mindlessly into the mists. The need for, and release from, the demands of lyrium always laid him low, brutally exposing his innermost fears to be twisted by his paranoia.

Now, bolstered by the hit of lyrium he’d just knocked back, the rage Cullen had kept under tight control rampaged through his blood. He embraced it, the flames of anger burning away the self-doubt and instead, directing his righteous fury at the cause of all his problems. The war had always been fought across multiple fronts and if he could best serve Leaena out here, then so be it.

_Madame de Fer, you will pay. A thousand times over._

_And I will enjoy watching you reap that which you sow._

‘If I forget my purpose, then she is victorious.’

Cullen gave himself a vigorous mental shake, the crippling uncertainty for now at bay. He was determined to find a way through the seemingly impossible and return to Leaena’s side. But his grand plans for freedom would count for naught if he lost himself to a downward spiral of misery and desolation.

‘I would rather be dead than to have never met Leaena and to understand what it means to be in love. To live rather than survive. For as long as I remember that, I will find a way forward through this nightmare…..there we go, fellow, nearly done now.’

With a quick pat for his horse, Cullen swiftly mounted, adjusting the sodden felt hat downwards against the resuming deluge of sleet and rain. The lyrium high melded into normality as Cullen took deep, steadying breaths, his resolve strengthening with each slow exhale. How could he lose his nerve now, after all the Maker had put him through? Was this perhaps the ultimate test?

‘I have survived demons, a Blight, cheated death itself and sawed a wing off Corypheus’ pet dragon. A coward I am not! She can bloody well bring it on if she wants a fight.’ Cullen gave a firm nod to his horse, the only witness to a vow Cullen swore to himself on a daily basis. ‘I will always find a way back to Leaena, no matter how hopeless I might feel at times. I can win!’

He was well aware that forces beyond Corypheus were in play, political machinations and stirrings of rebellion rife across every nation in Thedas. This time, however, Cullen was facing down a front line he’d never anticipated, caught in the thick of a battlefield riddled with intrigue and evil on a scale beyond human reckoning. Being Leaena’s champion in this particular arena was one he was supremely unqualified for but, as falling on his sword was clearly not an option, he had the unpalatable task of ferreting out more secrets from his kidnapper in order to plot his escape.

So far Vivienne had played her cards close to her chest, Cullen responding in kind. Now though, he judged that enough distance was between Leaena and her tormentor. Cullen was done playing dumb. He had today discovered an important clue to confirm his hunch. There was now a flare of hope, carefully nurtured in the farthest corner of his mind lest Vivienne ferret out his determination to defeat her somehow.

In moments they were cantering once more along the mossy riverbank, Cullen without thinking scanning the space in front of him for traces of the telltale magic that would tell him he was nearing his end destination. The particular flare he sought was as severe and unyielding as Leaena’s was welcoming and vibrant, Cullen having forgotten as his lyrium faded what a Templar could tell about a mage’s personality and mood from their mana.

If he’d ever needed a reminder of just how different Vivienne and Leaena were, all the evidence was in the unwelcome discovery of the pattern now jarring his brain, a mere five minute’s ride away from where he’d lost all sense of composure and dignity. Gritting his teeth, he wiped away the moisture from his face, slowing to a walk as a dark brown canvas shelter and a glowing camp fire appeared out of the murky darkness.

‘Cullen. So you did the sensible thing and returned. How very noble of you. Dare I hope that you’ve forgiven me and we can skip to making this journey of ours more interesting?’

The velvet smoothness of Vivienne’s cultured voice grated as it always did, Cullen refusing to give her the satisfaction of an acknowledgement. The raw energy contained within the other mage was as dangerously seductive as the demon that had stalked him for too long, a blatant provocation to his own newly heightened, lyrium-fortified strength. Still, he casually dismissed the glamour oozing from the shimmering amethyst flow of magic winding sensuously within Vivienne’s aura.

‘Forgiving the unforgiveable is something best left to the Maker.’ As if such a ridiculous notion would ever be possible. ‘Unless you’re going to hand over that phylactery round your neck, which I know you won’t, there is nothing further to discuss.’

Try though he might, Cullen’s eyes strayed to the fine chain and the mix of Leaena’s and Vivienne’s blood in the fine gold phylactery, his unwilling eyes dragged down to the taught white material across Vivienne’s breasts. His heart twisted in agony as the lyrium jumped, clinging onto the few threads of sapphire blue that fought free from the amethyst and azure prison. He clung onto the whisper of song from the vial of blood that called in a mad panic to him for release, Cullen nearly on his knees once more at being so near yet so far from the perfection of completion only being with Leaena could bring.

That his wife-to-be was being held hostage to an ancient blood magic ritual known only to the most senior of Templars, Cullen had realised with horror the moment he’d read the stark four lines of note in Leaena’s chambers. The perpetrator of such a crime, punishable by death under Chantry law, was of little consequence. Vivienne had never played by the rules before and, if there was a way to secure her dominant position in society once more she would, no matter the cost.

He’d been left with no choice but to leave Leaena behind, frequently tortured almost to the point of insanity to be so close to the lifeblood of his soulmate as the miles between them increased. Currently, his only weapon was obstinate indifference, while he spent every second frantically searching for a way in his head to end such madness. As of yet he only had guesswork, left with nothing to do but take as little lyrium as he could while he grew his own powers. Being a Templar was, once more, his sole line of defence against the danger magic presented.

_Today, though….today is different._

_I have the start of a plan, witch. At last._

A low laugh of cynical amusement met his rebuff. Cullen opted to see to the wellbeing of his mount first, building up the will to spend more than one minute directly in Vivienne’s company without trying to kill her.

‘Oh but you can’t slay me, much though I know you would like to, my dear.’ Vivienne’s astute comment met with his resolute stony silence. ‘Such a pity. One day you will thank me, my Templar, for restoring you to all you were meant to be.’  

‘Thank you? For restoring me? The spirit that reversed your Rite clearly touched more than your link to the Fade.’

Vivienne blinked, her only hint of surprise at his sarcastic rejoinder. Beyond the first, terse meeting deep in the Emprise du Lion, Cullen had kept communication short and abrupt. He was so far out of his depth, readjusting to the daily lyrium draughts alongside the crushing sense of failure, the safest course of action had been to remain mute until he had a plan. He’d not trusted himself to do something foolhardy, such as losing his increasingly short temper and inadvertently putting Leaena’s life in peril by a wayward enquiry. He’d been banned from asking about the detail, and with little choice but to obey, Cullen could only rely on his skills of observation to fathom out clues.

_Like Tevinter as our ultimate destination._

_The only logical conclusion, after all, for a woman of your vile stamp._

One day soon, he’d have to discover more, if he’d ever find a way out of the mess for him and Leaena. Until that moment came, however, he’d have to dance to the fiddler’s tune, much though it infuriated him to do so.

_Manipulation never works on me, First Enchanter. As every mage and Tranquil under my command found out to their cost._

_One day you will too._

Cullen’s back was to Vivienne and the tiny shelter as he checked the wards. For the millionth time, Cullen was left guessing who was so in thrall to Vivienne that they would go to such extreme lengths to secure her release from Skyhold – another significant piece of the puzzle he as yet had no information on. Remembering Maddox and his blind devotion to the evil Samson represented, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know just what Vivienne had promised to any poor creature, to defy the will of an Emperor and Inquisitor both.

‘Why don’t you put your childish petulance away for once, Commander, do the sensible thing and get out of those wet clothes. We have important matters to discuss.’

Cullen refused to dignify her jibe with a response, although he was suddenly afire with unwanted curiosity as to the sudden change of dynamic and a chance to discover more. Vivienne was in an unusually chatty mood. Typically she rocketed between erratic highs and violent lows so typically characteristic of mages who had undergone the reversal of the Rite of Tranquility. Vivienne in her current guise of flirtatious and charming court darling could only mean trouble.

_She’s about as friendly as a rattlesnake and as trustworthy._

_What does she want?_

Acknowledging to himself that he was not going to further Leaena’s cause by catching a cold, Cullen gave Vivienne a curt nod, diving into his tiny space to replace his soaking garments. Quickly he pulled on fresh trousers and a shirt and wrapped himself up again in another nondescript cloak and hat. His rumbling stomach drove him outside to sit under the canvas and eat the simple meal she’d prepared for them both.

‘That’s quite the scowl you’re wearing Cullen.’ Vivienne eyed him with a look Cullen couldn’t interpret as she poured them both tea. ‘It must be quite a chore, maintaining that level of suspicion for so many years.’

‘You know I don’t drink that rubbish so don’t bother wasting water.’ Cullen chewed on a leg of cold chicken, forcing the food down his throat. ‘As for the suspicion, I can’t believe you, of all people would query why. Especially as I now know where you intend on dragging us. Why did you not just come clean at the start, Vivienne, and tell me we’re heading to Tevinter?’

He’d decided to be direct, anything to reduce the tension roiling in his stomach.

‘It took you this long to figure out? The famed strategist of the Inquisition couldn’t make an educated guess at the very least? How did you manage to point your army in a straight line?’ Vivienne’s sarcastic drawl was met with supreme indifference on his part. ‘The Inquisitor is no longer here to tie your bootlaces, darling. You’ll have to do better than that to ensure her survival.’

‘I deal in facts, not bullshit with drama for added effect. I’d be a poor strategist indeed to make anything more of the superficial intelligence you’ve tossed my way. So let’s see what we have, shall we?’

Cullen removed a dagger from his belt and started to sharpen it, each strike of the blade against the stone’s edge emphasising a stark truth he still struggled to accept himself.

‘It’s a fact you hold Leaena’s life in the balance. It’s a fact that my presence is the only thing keeping her alive. It’s a fact that I will pay any price, including giving my own sorry hide, to ensure she lives. It’s a fact that you, for some unfathomable reason, despise a woman who never did anything to deserve the persecution you’ve inflicted on her for over a decade. It’s a fact that no matter how hard we have tried to cover our tracks, she will come after you. And finally, it’s a fact the only place in this Bilghted earth you stand a chance of escaping from Leaena’s fury is within the cozy bosom of the Magisterium. Did I miss anything?’

Finished with his dagger, he flicked it back into his belt, reaching to oil his longsword. Catching sight of Vivienne’s eyes glittering in the firelight, a shiver slithered down Cullen’s spine. It never ceased to unnerve him to catch sight of a mage both he and Leaena had thought forever consigned to the obedient life of a Tranquil. It was even more unnerving to see her looking ten years younger, the Sunburst brand on her forehead now nowhere in sight, and wearing clothes better suited to a homely farmer’s wife than the leader of fashion she’d been renowned for. It was a Vivienne fully restored to the height of her beauty, a stunningly attractive lady he didn’t recognise and still had to mentally hit himself to believe he wasn’t in yet another Fade-induced nightmare.

‘I never accused you of stupidity, Commander. Your tendency to deal with life’s challenges head on precedes you, that’s all.’ Vivienne flicked a lustrous strand over one shoulder, stretching languorously to make a rather obvious point. ‘You are aware, aren’t you, that there are often more subtle methods to achieving your goals? There are so many ways to encourage people to talk, rather than the pedestrian methods you adopt in the Inquisition.’

Vivienne’s midnight skin was smooth and unblemished, long thick hair falling unbraided to her waist and simply parted in the style of the lowliest peasant girl. Full ruby lips were curved in a deceptively charming smile, obsidian eyes alternately sparking amethyst and azure to match her magical specialisations. There was no trace of the wicked bitch who had dominated Leaena’s life for so long, waging a war of persecution so extreme only abject humiliation of the Inquisitor would suffice. Vivienne had an air of vulnerability that had been missing in Skyhold, the bitter and jaded court enchanter hidden beneath the veneer of fragility and youth that had been transposed onto her from the Fade spirit who’d restored her to her faculties.

For a veneer it was, of that Cullen was sure. Vivienne only cared about Vivienne and anything which might get in the way of her success was ruthlessly destroyed. Leaena had been marked as a deadly rival from the moment she’d set foot in Montsimmard, leading to an obsession that had stalked her across nations and over a decade of service to the Chantry. To this day Cullen remained suspicious of the connection between Vivienne and Sampson, his own enemy leaving Leaena nearly dead.

_One less bastard to worry about, at least, unless he comes back as a reanimated corpse._

_Knowing my luck, he might well lumber round the corner any second._

‘Blind I am not.’ Cullen flickered a deliberately lingering gaze over Vivienne’s voluptuously elegant figure, then dismissed her paltry charms with a contemptuous lift of his eyebrow. ‘I am also aware, however, that the subtle methods as you describe are either a last resort, or because the individual in question lacks the imagination to secure victory by alternative means. Either way, I see little of interest to persuade me away from my chosen course.’ 

It wasn’t the first time she’d invited him into her bed in what had to be the longest month of his life, but it was the most blatant attempt yet. He caught another glimpse of surprise in Vivienne’s eyes at Cullen’s unusual verbosity, something she couldn’t quite hide as her gaze dipped to examine her nails. Her cheeks burned a dull red at his withering dismissal of her first openly blatant offer, only chagrined pride preventing her from issuing a withering setdown. Cullen was grateful for the food he was chewing hiding the flare of success at having, for the first time, goaded Vivienne into something more than her usual scathing monologue.

‘Your simplistic observations are of little consequence,’ Vivienne replied firmly, to his relief the flirtation replaced by more unexpected conversation. ‘The need for secrecy has passed, now you have demonstrated your loyalty to the lyrium, if not to me. Templar favours always were easily bought.’

‘If that’s the case, why me?’ Vivienne hadn’t merely stolen him away to spite Leaena, although it was a major factor entwined with a host of complicated reasons Cullen had yet to fathom. ‘You could have had any Templar out there if all you wanted was another addict. Or are you that perverse you enjoy the thrill of watching me descend into lunacy, all for the crime of having fallen in love?’

‘Reducing you to what I suffered as a Tranquil is certainly an added bonus,’ Vivienne agreed with a humorless laugh. ‘Your pathetic little romance is of no consequence, although Leaena continues to believe the sun, moons and stars revolve around her. I need the best, Cullen, and you are it.’

At Vivienne’s callous disregard for everything that mattered in his universe, the long weeks of uncertainty and doubt, unsure if he’d ever hear Leaena’s musical laughter or feel the caress of her lips on his ever again, the last reserves of Cullen’s patience finally snapped.

‘You at least received the courtesy of an explanation alongside a judgement you royally deserved! You also must know by now that my days of taking lyrium are numbered. So I ask again – why me, when there are many my equal?’ Cullen demanded furiously, his temper frayed by the continued pleas for help emulating from Leaena’s phylactery. ‘Tevinter, presumably so you can peddle more of that filthy blood magic you used to bind Leaena’s spirit to yours and escape your Rite! If you’re so bloody powerful why do you need a Templar along for the ride?’

‘So you do have teeth. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to your fabled bravery.’ Vivienne’s smooth tone belied the underlying venom, her obsessive loathing of Leaena colouring her every decision – just as he’d suspected. ‘You and your Inquisitor consigned me to the miserable life of a Tranquil – under that useless worm Fiona, no less! Leaena should have executed me alongside Celene. I clearly didn’t teach her as well as I thought, if she didn’t think I’d have an escape route for every eventuality. Even that one.’

There it was. The gleam of utter irrationality in Vivienne’s otherwise innocuous glance at the mere mention of Leaena’s victory over her. The depths of Vivienne’s fixation over a younger, more talented and powerful mage from a respected noble house had warped into a rabid hatred in a remarkably short space of time. It had disintegrated into to a sinister campaign for well over a decade, designed to undermine Leaena’s every move and push an innocent mage beyond the bounds of reason.

That Vivienne was dangerously unstable Cullen was well aware. She had been prior to the Rite and now hovered on the border between brilliance and insanity. He was unsurprised by the lightning shifts in direction given her newfound sensitivity to emotion. The vulnerability that accompanied Vivienne’s delusions against Leaena, however, was new. Anything which gave him the opportunity to learn more, he couldn’t miss out on.

‘What?’ Cullen stated blunty, showing his disbelief in an attempt to push Vivienne further. ‘Leaena knew you’d serve Corypheus and Celene, the value you place on loyalty on the same level as you place your virtue. She completely outplayed you in the Game.’

‘Oh she did in that skirmish. Tranquility is something any mage can be threatened with at any time, however. You, of all people should be aware of that, Knight-Commander. How many mages went under the Sunburst Brand during your watch?’ Vivienne’s dark gaze bore a hole into a decidedly sore spot in Cullen’s conscience. ‘Yes you know what I mean, all too well. As for the use of blood magic, that’s a bit rich coming from a Templar. I only adapted one of your spells. The ones used for the most troublesome of mages, of which we both were.’

‘I never agreed to the use of such a filthy abomination during my years as Knight-Commander, and Leaena certainly had no such traces over her phylactery!’ Cullen countered angrily, stung into an automatic retaliation. ‘It says much for the state of Montsimmard Circle for I am sure Ostwick would never have countenanced such a heretical practice. The very worst of blood magic, right there round your neck. Something I thought you’d forsworn against.’

‘Well of course, darling!’ Vivienne’s surprise was unfeigned enough for Cullen to believe, at least, that she was no maleficar. ‘Blood magic is for weak fools who can’t toss a simple fireball together on their own. A lazy way of going about business! I’m sure on this point at least we can find some common ground.’

‘Blood magic isn’t something I’d list as a preferred magical practice.’ An understatement of the century.

‘There! We agree on something at least. Now, where was I, before you flung about such silly accusations? Oh yes. I always had a plan should I be made Tranquil. Granted, I didn’t expect Leaena to do anything quite so stupid, but she did. Revenge is a dish best served cold and with that temper of hers, well here we are as a result. Tevinter it is, you and I together. How very jolly we shall be. I have high hopes for our future.’

‘What future?’ Cullen reined in his anger and refused to give in to bitter defeat, deciding safety lay in simple responses. ‘You are joking aren’t you?’

‘I never jest over such serious matters.’ Vivienne’s low chuckle held an edge that sent Cullen’s hackles rising as she swiftly changed the conversation once more. ‘Enough reminiscing on the past. You are too clever, Cullen, and I have plans for you which don’t include your escape back to that little nobody in her ugly fortress.’

‘You know you can lead me all over Thedas by the nose. Tevinter, Antiva, Orlais, Par Vollen, even, what does it matter? Beyond knowing Leaena is still alive, I don’t overly care. Sacrifice for the greater good is not a concept I expect someone as utterly self-absorbed as you to grasp.’ Cullen ignored Vivienne’s visible irritation over Leanea’s continued dominance over the conversation, his goading deliberate to probe her further. ‘I don’t give a shit what power plays you’re off to have in the Magisterium nor what earth-shattering world events are taking place that you absolutely have to be a centre of. So long as Leaena is alive you can do what you will.’

‘Indeed I shall. You’ll be delighted to hear that we’ll be travelling as husband and wife from this point on, to reduce the chances of our being recognised.’ Vivienne’s triumphant smirk at Cullen’s recoil of disgust was vindictive. ‘Nothing is safe until we cross the border to Tevinter. I am that most exciting of things – a wanted woman! Not quite in the style I’m accustomed to, but there you go. That will change once you and I start our new lives together in the Empire.’

‘Husband and wife?’ Cullen replied carefully, resting his plate down with deliberate slowness. ‘Explain further, if you will, this disguise.’

‘Just that. Mr Colin and Mrs Susan Smith. A poor farming couple, you recently returned to till the land from your years soldering away in the Imperial Army – let’s steer clear from Ferelden although no one can mistake you as anything less than a barbarian. My sister Laura in Rivain has taken ill and we are travelling to aid her recovery. I know a few simple herbal remedies, so we are travelling a somewhat roundabout route to collect the required medicines on our way.’

‘I see.’ He did. Vivienne had chosen to humiliate him where it would hurt the most, yet he refused to buckle under such a painful blow. ‘What of the route you’ve selected? Via Nevarra would have been faster.’

‘No one will expect us to travel through Orlais. Fly in the face of the opposition, darling. Besides, Nevarra is far more unstable and I’m not so lost to sensibility that I’ll march straight through a war.’

‘War? If the Tevinter Empire grants you shelter it will be more than war we’ll face.’ On that fact Cullen was certain. Gaspard would take no insult to his rule. ‘Nevarra and Tevinter are at peace, or had you forgotten?’

‘Tevinter faces war on all of its borders aside from the Anderfels and you know as well as I do that all is not as it should be in Weisshaupt. Thanks to the meddling of your little Inquisition, the world is on the brink on being plunged into conflict, the likes of which haven’t been seen in this Age.’ For such an ominous pronouncement, Vivienne appeared delighted. ‘Opportunity abounds as a result….oh, you didn’t really think that with Corypheus dead you’d be able to run off and play house did you? How pathetically sweet. You did! I will put you to far better use than the Inquisitor ever could, my dear Knight-Commander Cullen. To the very end of your days, no less.’

Cullen’s headache intensified, the circular conversation no longer providing any information of use. Vivienne had already repeated at length how his servitude to her would be eternal. This burst of debate had revealed a madness she’d gone to great lengths to disguise. With a shake of his head, he stared down towards his empty plate, not daring to push his captor any further on this miserable evening.

‘Remember, my dear, you’ll have to play the part of devoted husband. I’m hardly a viable candidate for an abused wife am I?’ Vivienne’s smug satisfaction at Cullen’s silent rage was reflected in every nuanced syllable. ‘Rest assured, that I will do everything in my care to ensure your physical safety and mental faculties are in place in return. Contrary to your earlier statement, you won’t be meeting your precious Maker any time soon. Remember where your duty lies and nothing will go wrong. I’ll give one thing to Leaena – how she commands such unswerving loyalty from you even at this distance is remarkable. All to my advantage.’

_You will never know how, even now, she sings to me still._

_I know her heart is breaking and to carry this with me every day is almost too much for me to bear. But for her, I must._

The weak magical pulse from Leaena’s blood, trapped in the corruption of blood magic was a permanent reminder of just what was at stake. Vivienne’s fragile grip on reality was liable to fracture at the first sign of Cullen’s disobedience. He couldn’t risk pushing her any further tonight, or it would be Leaena who would bear the brunt of his clumsy missteps. Besides, it was a long way to Minrathous. There was time for Cullen to discover more.

Bracing himself inwardly, he looked up at the undisguised malice in the woman opposite, nodding his acknowledgement of her terms.

‘As if there were any other option but for me to agree. Not unless you feel willing to join me in repealing the spell over Leaena’s phylactery. No, I thought not.’ Pushing himself to his feet, Cullen pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes, stalking away from Vivienne’s chuckle of amusement to pace the camp’s perimeter. ‘I shall bid you good evening, madame. Leave the tidying up to me. We depart before dawn.’

‘Don’t stay up too late, darling. I intend on putting every inch of you to good use, soon.’

The rustle of canvas told him that Vivienne had, at least visibly removed herself out of his sight, Cullen able to push aside the irritating buzz of her magic as he settled in for his watch. It took every ounce of control to not reach out and comfort the whispers of Leaena’s magic. He had few enough advantages over their enemy. Vivienne had no way of knowing the full extent of the bond between him and his Inquisitor nor that he could sense the essence of her being even with an ocean between then.

_I have you, with me, always._

_I’m only sorry that I left you with nothing in return._

The heavy mist from earlier was now a full-blown fog, Cullen unable to see more than a couple of feet in front of him. He tidied up the remains of dinner and put out the tiny fire, content to settle down at the edge of the camp. With his sword across his knees, he let his senses replace his vision, giving his brain some much needed respite. Recounting the terse discussion, Cullen grinned unexpectedly as Vivienne’s intentions became apparent. There were still huge gaps in his knowledge, but the motivations were at last becoming clear.

‘She needs a Templar in Tevinter, one with enough reputation and power to match her own. Aside from possibly Trystan and Rylen, there are few others who could pull this off.’ Cullen murmured the words to himself, grudgingly admiring of Vivienne’s tenacity and sheer bloody minded determination. ‘To the Tevinter Empire it is then. The home of blood magic and birthplace of the Chantry. Perhaps this might work out after all.’

Cullen chuckled lightly to himself, the kernel of hope he’d been nursing growing stronger by the minute. Unwittingly, driven by her blinding hatred of Leaena, Vivienne was also leading them both to the one place that could offer a cure. If Leaena hadn’t been under such threat, and if he wasn’t so far away from her, Cullen might almost have started to enjoy the challenge.

At some point, Cullen would see his Inquisitor again and when he did, he needed to have discovered how to free her from the lethal web of blood magic Vivienne had spun. Just as Vivienne sought to exploit him, so Cullen fully intended on returning the favour. He hadn’t pitted his wits against such a complex enemy for quite some time, Corypheus lacking in any finesse by the end, the Inquisition thoroughly decimating his forces.

For the first time since his forced flight from Skyhold, in spite of the danger to Leaena, the neverending agony of missing her, the damp that permeated into each one of his aching joints, the insane mage now sleeping soundly in the tent behind him ordering him to dwell in a land of blood mages – and the stockpile of lyrium he’d sworn to never touch again humming through his veins, Cullen felt surprisingly upbeat.

‘My dear lady Vivienne, you’ll regret the day you tried to outmaneuver this Knight-Commander. Let the games begin.’

Cullen’s old signet ring denoting his former rank weighed heavy in his clenched fist, the Templar Order crest pressing into the heel of his palm. He closed his eyes, a grim smile twisting his lips and the cold, damp evening forgotten as the plan he’d so desperately been searching for started to formulate in his mind.


	8. Unanswered Questions

_Cullen,_

_Dammit_ _, they wouldn’t let me come to you any sooner. Dorian forced some vile shit down my throat and that was lights out for another two days, and before that I lost a whole bloody month in the Fade – the Fade of all places! She had me trapped there. I have no idea how. But when I figure it out Vivienne won’t be left standing for much longer, of that I promise you. I’m awake and I’m on the move and I have a plan. Of sorts.  How did she...never mind this pointless speculation! All I know is that I have to stay hidden. You've left that much of a hint for me at least. She must never suspect.....oh Maker what if I blunder in as usual.....no! This self-doubt is exactly what she wants and I won't give into it!_

_You’ll think me a total idiot, writing letters to you when I have no idea where to post them. ~~Aside from Minrathous, Tevinter, c/o some crazy bitch who stalks my every movement.~~ But it brings me closer to you – makes me believe that I will find a way out of the madness. It used to work back when I was all over bloody Thedas for the Inquisition and it had better work now. I will save you. It is my turn, after all the saving you’ve done. So perhaps one day I’ll show you the enormous stash of letters that I’ve written to you in a pathetic attempt at pretending you’re just round the corner. Forgive me, my husband?_

_See, I already think of you as such. The most important role I’ll ever have, being your wife. In my heart we are married already and have been for so long. I fantasise about the day when you finally put the ring on my finger, the quiet words of forever that we’ll share, together. It is all that keeps me going, all that warms me against this incessant chill that never leaves my body. Memories of you, everywhere. If you knew what I did to keep myself sane, I wonder. Would you still love me?_

_Besides, it is irrelevant. I am on my way and the anger that drives me on is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I stoke it on a hourly basis, a silent rage building to an inferno for just the right moment when I deliver the final retribution. Trystan and Cadan worry that it’s corrosive, eating me alive, but I need it. Without it, I’ll die._

_Better than the agony of not having you here, missing you every single second. The one crumb of comfort I have is that you are clearly more valuable to Vivienne alive rather than dead. If only she truly knew your worth! Wasted on one of her treacherous stamp._

_Hold on, Cullen, my life, my love. I am coming._

_L_


	9. Marking Time

‘No. This is not a subject up for discussion.’

‘You are needed elsewhere! I won’t be the one who holds you back! ‘

‘From what? The only way forward lies with you. And only you.’

Cassandra’s forbidding expression tolerated no argument or dissent, one that had struck fear into nobles and raw recruits alike. Trystan of course, smiled cheerfully at her glare. She scowled, waving her hands in a futile gesture in front of Trystan’s unyielding stubbornness and turned on her heel to stare furiously at the mounts, saddled in the yard and awaiting a departure she’d tried to keep quiet. Her usual expression of disgust couldn’t hide her underlying fear and agitation, Cassandra’s arms firmly wrapped around her waist as she stared in a mixture of longing and despair at the still-smiling Templar before her.

 ‘We have obligations – sworn duties that you’re so casually dismissing are nowhere near done! Corypheus was merely the opening act. Enemies abound against the Inquisition, the world still in turmoil. We have not restored order and as for the Breach, well, that was the innocent flower with the serpent lying beneath. You are needed here, with the Inquisitor – oh!’

‘Every subject's duty is the King’s, but every subject's soul is his own. You know what? There’s a King right here who I’m sure I can persuade to back me up.’

The Seeker and the Templar were heedless of the silent audience stealthily backing away from this most intimate clash of wills unexpectedly being aired in public. Cassandra was fighting a losing battle against a love that, even now, she still couldn’t fully embrace. The Inquisitor and the remainder of her companions were, at that point, about as interesting as the fallen leaves piled up on the otherwise immaculate lawn beside them.

‘These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and…what nonsense! This is not some intellectual clash…so much more is at stake! Maker, this cannot end well, Trystan!’

Trystan tilted his head, watching Cassandra with a mixture of amusement, exasperation and an adoration so apparent she started, in spite of her vehement disagreement, to blush furiously.

‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ he parried gently, ‘but I would not wish any companion in the world but you. I think we can do far better than these tragedies, my lady.’

‘I, well…that is…’

‘Still fearful, after all this time. Perhaps rightly so, given the hand the Maker has dealt you. I’m not going to desert you, Cassandra.’ Trystan had drawn close to her, lifting her chin with a deft touch to meet his gaze. ‘There is only one dragon I will conquer – the blue one that flows alongside the blood in my veins. You give me the fire to burn my soul clean, at long last. The future is ours to build, together, if you would only let me in.’

Cassandra wasn’t the only one standing with her arms folded tightly across her belly to ward off an ancient pain. Silent tears trickled down Lea’s face as she gestured to the others to get inside the Inquisition’s embassy. This was too personal a moment for anyone to intrude, her brother and her dear friend caught up in a web of emotion so intense and private the world around them no longer existed.

Somehow, Lea stumbled last up the stairs, casting an invisible barrier to ensure the couple had the solitude both so badly needed. She caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of Trystan, heedless of the freezing ground, now bent on one knee with his arm outstretched. A pose so reminiscent of another night, in the same building Lea nearly collapsed from the blaze of pain ripping through her heart. Whether Trystan was actually proposing or whether he was doing his best to convince the ever-cautious Cassandra, Lea absolutely did not want to know. The heavy oaken doors, mercifully, slammed hard behind her, cutting off a scene she’d never wanted to witness. Her fists slammed into her eyes as she rubbed her knuckles into her eyes, an attempt at squeezing her eyeballs to remove the heart-breaking image of Cullen on his knees….

_I’ve discovered my path home….._

_….will you marry me, Leaena?_

‘Inquisitor? Lea….’

‘I’m alright!’ Lea practically shouted, clenching her jaw and refusing for the thousandth time that morning to give into defeat. ‘I’m just…’

_Gasping for air? Again? Losing control of myself? Again._

_Get a fucking grip, Trevelyan._

‘Surprised that the Seeker wasn’t more romantic in the face of such, erm, romance?’

Varric’s dry humour and Dorian’s bark of laughter saved Lea the effort of trying to explain, her companions blessedly saving her, once more, from herself.

‘That’s certainly one way of putting it.’ Dorian’s cynical amusement spelt out what most of them had been thinking. ‘For a woman who absorbs tome after tome of the most, hmm, ardent love stories, you’d have thought she’d have learnt a few lessons by now. Attempting to sneak off at the crack of dawn is not particularly original.’

‘After all those years in the Circle, she should also know that Trystan is well used to preventing lovesick runaways from riding off into a tragedy of their own making.’ Cadan agreed with a wide grin, Lea grateful for his steadying hand in the small of her back. ‘Trystan has such a flair for the dramatic. He should have been on the stage.’

‘Quite so!’ Dorian, to Lea’s surprise, steered the conversation away from gossip, gesturing for them all to go ahead of him into the ornate parlour. ‘Wasted in the Templars, of course. I had no idea he was so well-versed in some of the more obscure, yet brilliant, Tevinter playwrights. It is remarkable to have a civilised debate with a warrior one assumes is more used to braining fellow Templars for sport than arguing the finer points of theatrical interpretation.’

‘Trystan is an exception to the rule, I can assure you.’ Alistair laughed wryly, gesturing for them to join him at the breakfast table. ‘Bournshire was fairly typical of the Chantry’s expectations. Once you’ve been force-fed the Chant of Light every day alongside regular pastings in the training yard, there’s not much space for anything else taking up grey matter.’

‘Yet you seem to have survived, my liege,’ Cadan grinned irreverently, casting a sly glance at Alistair’s heaped plate. ‘Presumably you’re catching up for lost time with all that gruel in the Chantry. They’ll run out of sausage in Val Royeaux if you keep at it.’

‘One of the few benefits of being king,’ Alistair beamed, tucking into his hearty breakfast with gusto. ‘A warm, comfortable bed and a decent start to the day. Maker, I’ve never quite gotten over just how dreadful the food was in the Chanty for young boys. You’d be surprised at how often we’d plan break-ins to the kitchen. This one recruit once tied up all his trousers and pants in a long chain, dangled them down from his window and attempted to climb down the outside wall….’

Lea was convinced that she’d never be able to repay her friends and her twin for providing her with the space to regain her dignity. Saying nothing was the best way for her to maintain a façade of composure, Lea sliding into her chair and absently slicing a rosy red apple. The familiar surroundings of the dining room at their Val Royeaux embassy had lost the power to hurt over the past few days, memories of another time and place fuelling her need to find a way out of Vivienne’s poisoned web. The chatter of her friends calmed the racing thoughts of escape in her head, Lea focussing for a moment on the two lovers, outside in the cool morning of late winter. She was happy for them both, albeit with a bittersweet pang twisting in her abdomen.

Trystan had always made his intentions plain. He would follow Cassandra to the end of the earth if necessary. It was wrong of her, she knew, but Lea had always unconsciously relied on the support of her older brother. It was beyond time that Trystan had finally made it clear to Cassandra where his priorities lay, but Lea couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit vulnerable. She was heading into the unknown and could never make the demand of him to join her, not when his own future was a priority.

Lea was, again, on her own.

_I’m a big girl now anyway._

_With a helluva plan. Honest._

It had been two weeks since she’d departed Skyhold, immediately calling for her horse upon waking up after her collapse. One week had passed since they’d arrived in the Orlesian capital. Josephine, hands wringing at the potential diplomatic disaster of an Inquisition with no Inquisitor had reluctantly waved Lea and her friends off, Lea rattling off a stream of orders to the Ambassador and the ever able Knight-Captain Rylen standing in Cullen’s stead. Lea had no intention of sitting around in a fortress while Cullen risked his life for her. She needed answers before she headed to Tevinter and there had been only one place Lea could think of to travel to get them.

Val Royeaux, of course. Vivienne’s playground for so many years, the home of duplicity and secrets. The rebirth of the Chantry was already under way, her spymaster’s rise to Divine Victoria causing much-needed ructions across a centuries-old institution in dire need of reform. The Emperor, placed on his throne by the Inquisitor, a stalwart ally with about as much liking for the former Court Enchanter as Lea herself.

Both Leliana and Gaspard were facing down their own insurgencies, Lea having only secured the briefest of audiences thus far with two of the most powerful people in the land. While Leliana was meeting her adversaries with calm words and a promise of unity, Gaspard took a soldier’s approach to disciplining his nobles. If she wasn’t mistaken, another public beheading of a prominent lord was due to take place in a couple of hours, with rumours of whole families under threat of being wiped out. The thought of the seemingly casual nature of execution as a punitive measure made Lea want to vomit, but she needed a stable Orlais united under one ruler. It was not her affair as to how Gaspard chose to exercise his authority in subduing the Council. For as long as the cat was amongst the pigeons in the spoilt upper classes at least, the lower classes were enjoying a respite.

Lea hadn’t forgotten for one moment the plight of the poor. There was little she could do, however, unless it was to encourage them to join the Inquisition ranks where they would at least be guaranteed a bed, an honest wage and a warm meal every day. Her authority only reached so far, a fact that pained her every time she witnessed another outrage by a Chevalier against a hapless city Elf or another washerwoman cuffed openly for no other crime than stumbling in the path of her betters. Thedas was a simmering pot of resentment and rebellion, a simple truth which all its leaders recognised, but many with little inclination to challenge the status quo.

Dissent in the ranks of the Inquisition was growing too, slowly but steadily. People joined because they wanted to make a change, the fallout from the Mage-Templar war and Celene’s demise still reverberating across Southern Thedas. With an inward sigh as she sipped some tea, Lea contemplated the raft of correspondence that awaited her. From the stalled negotiations for peace between Ferelden and Orlais holding up trade, through to a continuing feud between two apprentice mages, she was expected to deal with it all. The expectations on the role of Inquisitor and the Inquisition both were becoming unrealistic and unmanageable to the general populace and ruling elite both.

‘Victims of our own success indeed,’ she muttered irritably under her breath, feeling no guilt whatsoever for her chosen course of action. ‘It’s Cullen or nothing. I’m done sorting out other people’s messes.’

‘Indeed, dear sister,’ Cadan replied in a quiet voice pitched low for only her to hear. ‘We will find him and we will bring him home. It is nearly over, I promise.’

Lea blinked up at Cadan’s touch on her shoulder, her sadness at what she was certain would be Trystan and Cassandra’s imminent departure at odds with the joy of being so close to her twin once more. In many ways, Trystan had replaced Cadan’s role in her life, although the ties that bought Bann and Lady Trevelyan’s children together were unbreakable. There was a chance, for perhaps the first time in her adult life, for Lea to spend a chunk of time with Cadan, an opportunity she was looking forward to, even in spite of the devastating circumstances that had bought such a reunion about. There was a unique bond that existed between the two of them that neither time nor circumstance could alter.

‘It certainly is.’ Lea nodded her grateful thanks at Cadan for his unwavering support. ‘I am just trying to convince myself that I’m not being thoroughly selfish in charging off into the wilds of Tevinter and risking so much more than his life.’

‘You aren’t. Cullen is unwittingly sitting bang slap in the middle of a complicated weave of international politics, a balance that Vivienne is determined to disrupt to her own advantage. And, perhaps to ours.’ A lighthearted grin crossed Cadan’s face at the thought. ‘If nothing else, imagine just how furious Cullen will be to have found himself stuck in the middle of a political war. I’d like to be a fly on the wall to watch Vivienne manipulate him. Failure is something she’d better get used to.’

‘That’s a valid point.’ The ghost of a smile hovered across Lea’s lips. ‘Cullen is more resourceful than Vivienne will ever know. Believe it or not he doesn’t always need to use an army to make his point.’

‘This is true and not something I would have been able to credit him capable of prior to meeting you Lea.’ With a cryptic nod, Cadan gestured down the table. ‘The Inquisition was formed with one purpose only. We have altered the course of Thedas, changing people’s lives in the process. Because of that change, more people are stepping up and taking responsibility for their own futures.’

‘What?’ Lea’s brow was furrowed, struggling to understand Cadan’s thinking. ‘How does that have anything to do with Vivienne and her need to shape everything in her own image?’

‘Vivenne may have survived the reversal of the Rite, but some habits are ingrained. We know how she works, we will spot the patterns in the chaos and strike when the time is right. As a result of our brilliance, people become inspired.’ Popping a grape in his mouth, he shot her an impudent grin. ‘Elementary, my dear Inquisitor. Do keep up.’

Lea’s derisive snort of disdain at Cadan’s nonsensical teasing was met with a raised eyebrow of enquiry by Alistair. ‘His pretty mouth gets him into more trouble than not, Lea. Shall I translate for you?’

‘You have new intelligence?’

Lea’s fingers nearly broke the silver cutlery clutched tight in her grip. She’d spent the last week either pacing in frustration around her study or pounding practice targets into rubble. Her legendary impatience was at a fever pitch, and the rushed audiences she’d had with the Divine and Emperor both had been less than satisfactory.

‘You could describe it as such.’

Leliana’s soft voice behind Lea’s chair nearly gave her a seizure.

‘You’re lucky it’s a spoon I’m holding!’ Lea gasped, jumping up from her chair to hug her former Spymaster. ‘I presume Cadan was spouting rubbish to throw me off the scent?’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’ Dorian airily waved a fork above his head. ‘In fact, one could argue that Cadan spouting rubbish was an everyday occurrence – ow!’

Lea ignored the jovial teasing behind her. Leliana’s appearance meant only one thing – news that would see her able to set off on Cullen’s trail once more. Thus far any information had been in short supply.

‘You aren’t looking very Divine like this morning,’ she said with a smile as she gestured for Leliana and Alistair to follow her to the study across the hall. ‘In fact I’d argue that you look more like the bard of old than Andraste’s chosen.’

‘I think I recognise that outfit Leliana.’ Alistair squinted in the bright light. ‘A certain tavern in Lothering…Maker how old is that tabard anyway?’

‘Ssh Alistiar,’ Leliana scolded teasingly, ‘it isn’t nice to quiz a lady on her age! I thought Freya had taught you better than that.’

‘She did and I always seem to promptly forget, much to her delight and Eamon’s chagrin. Apparently I’ve offended some of Ferelden’s ladies on more than one occasion. But anyway.’ Alistair’s shrewd gaze narrowed expectantly. ‘Lea and I are going stir crazy. Please free us from our misery and tell us we can continue our hunt.’

‘Such exquisite decorations. Josie has such good taste.’

The wistful note in Leliana’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the sigh of appreciation as she sank into an armchair by the fire. Lea’s study was a near-replica of her own in Skyhold, the only difference being that she hadn’t had a chance to submerge the mahogany desk in a swathe of paperwork. Letting Leliana settle herself, she went and poured tea, noting with sadness the dark circles under Leliana’s eyes and the tight lines around her mouth. Alistair, aside from a few more creases in his forehead, was little the worse for wear given he ruled a kingdom. To see Leliana so affected, and so soon into her role, made Lea curse herself and all the decisions she’d made all over again.

‘Don’t do it, Lea.’ Leliana noticed Lea’s hesitation and gave an encouraging smile. ‘I would not have wanted any other path. Yes the knives are out for me but I have enough patience to win over the doubters and the hate-filled. Let us focus on you, my friend.’

‘Alright.’ Lea tucked her legs under her, grasping her mug tightly while Alistair positioned himself at the other end of the sofa. ‘Time is short and I’m not going to ask how you made it here undetected. But I am grateful. Please, share with us what you have.’

‘Remember when I sent the mage Sidony to Tevinter?’

Lea did. It had been whilst Corypheus had remained alive, a last-ditch attempt to flush out the magister from the embers of his supporters. By locating the family he had been linked to, they’d hoped to glean further knowledge. Nothing had, however, arrived of any use.

‘What does it have to do with our current predicament?’

‘Well, interestingly of course, House Amladaris were so quick to deny the link with Corypheus there can be no doubt that they’ve been aware of such an undesirable connection for centuries.’ Leliana looked positively smug at having whittled out such a secret. ‘Naturally, the Inquisition would be delighted to work with Magister Irian to ensure such a scandal wouldn’t break out. Such as, you know, hosting some guests quietly and securing local intelligence that we didn’t have. As in, a certain Warden poking her nose into their family archive as well.’

‘What!’ Alistair jumped up excitedly. ‘How in the Maker’s name did you make the connection!’

‘Well it was a hunch.’ Leliana shrugged elegantly, sipping thoughtfully on her tea. ‘Freya is looking for a cure and Corypheus is known to be able to manage the Taint one way or another. I simply asked the right questions and it transpires she spent some months in Minrathous under  
Irian’s sponsorship.’

‘Wait so let me get this straight.’ Events were moving at such a fast pace again Lea couldn’t quite keep up. ‘We have a lead on Freya which is just what Alistair needs. And for me and Cullen, how will this fit? He’s going to put us up, great but what about the rest of it?’

‘You need a high level advocate in Tevinter, one who can host the Inquisitor openly without the calls of bias that Dorian and his family would receive given his open affiliation to your cause,’ Leliana responded thoughtfully. ‘We need someone on the ground gathering intelligence for us and I have, shall we say, persuaded Magister Irian that it is in his best interests to ferret out just what Vivienne de Fer has by means of support. I have nothing further as yet, but the information will come in time for us to formulate a plan. Tevinter is a long way away, after all.’

‘It doesn’t address either the issue of how we’ll get there undetected,’ Alistair mused in response, his eyes narrowing at Lea’s innocuous expression. ‘What do you want, Inquisitor? I recognise that look. You want something and I am not going to like it one bit.’

Lea said nothing for a moment, merely walking over to her desk and picking up Scout Harding’s latest report. Her idea had been formulating from the moment she’d realised Cullen had left her with a deliberate clue. To travel so openly in pursuit was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Vivienne no doubt expected Lea to challenge her – a provocation so blatant Lea was certain that to do so could bring about catastrophic results. Looking down at the glowing green hand clutching the letter, travelling incognito was a privilege she was no longer afforded.

_Unless I ask my friend to relive the unliveable._

_And not just him, either. Varric too._

‘The Deep Roads.’ Lea may as well have announced a trip to Satina, so incredulous was Leliana’s expression. ‘Not even Cullen would assume that I’d travel such a path and I can fulfil my obligations as Inquisitor by looking into this issue for Orzammar, but I – I need a guide, my friend. Beyond that I fear we will be on our own and no one knows darkspawn quite like a Grey Warden. Thom is away to the Anderfels and…..I know it is a big request but I could think of none other.’

 ‘Lea, you don’t know what you are asking,’ Leliana whispered after a shocked silence. ‘Alistair and I – we’ve been…..you don’t know what you’re asking. The danger is too great!’

Instead of replying, Lea passed the letter to a too-still Alistair. His fingers gripped the parchment tightly as he read, disapproval warring with the urgent need of Lea’s request apparent in every hard line of his handsome face. Lea had never truly entered the Deep Roads proper, considering the minor skirmishes she’d fought in the Hinterlands barely scratching the surface. The dwarves, of all the major races in Thedas, were the ones she was least familiar with. Behlan’s support of the Inquisition had been a major boon even though that support was limited to lyrium supply. To journey into a place she’d only seen in her red lyrium-induced madness was not a step she took lightly, yet she could think of no other way to steal a march on her nemesis.

‘Don’t think I don’t know, my friends.’ Lea’s words stuck in her throat as the memories returned. ‘I was linked to them, don’t forget, through the Taint in red lyrium. I can…some days all I hear are their voices, whispering mercilessly for me to join them. I know the risks. And I can think of no other way to save Cullen.’

‘You ask a great deal, Inquisitor.’ The solemn formality in Alistair’s tone made her cringe. ‘I may have left my kingdom under a stable regency, in expectation of a long journey – but I did not anticipate the dangers of the Deep Roads.’

‘You swore to follow Freya to wherever her journey took her,’ Lea countered, refusing to back down. ‘Surely you must have anticipated that the Deep Roads would be a factor? They are the home of Darkspawn, the carriers of the Blight. Her search would undoubtedly form a part of that.’

A heavy pause filled the air, Lea’s stomach churning in anticipation and dark regret. It would appear that there were few levels she’d not stoop to in order to secure Cullen’s safety. Manipulating one of her dearest and most loyal friends, and a King to boot, was a coercive tool from her days in the Circle she’d thought she’d foresworn.

_Until that bitch forced me back there. I guarantee this was all part of her plan._

_I am not the same woman, Vivienne. You can never warp me again._

‘Is this history repeating itself?’ Alistair muttered unexpectedly, Lea confused by a reference that seemingly read her furious thoughts. ‘You are right, Lea, much though I hate to admit it. I cannot risk darkspawn flooding my kingdom through the Storm Coast, and you need a guide. I will come with you.’

If she’d realised at that moment how significant a request she’d made, Lea would have thought twice before seeking Alistair’s support. She’d known of his long-standing, almost fanatical desire to chase after his Warden and be united with Freya Amell once more – a strength of love and devotion that drove one to the cusp of madness, at times. Lea understood such a bond all too well, Freya and Alistair perhaps one of very few couples who could begin to appreciate the force of connection that held her and Cullen together, even at great distances. Grey Wardens, after all, were linked too. She wasn’t aware, however, of the decades of friendship and betrayal stretching over generations.

It was immaterial at that point. Alistair had agreed and Lea, for the first time since wakening from her recurring Fade prison, felt a shade of hope.

‘Alistair, I’m sorry….if you need more time….’ Lea broke off at the firm shake of Alistair’s head.

‘Don’t be. My mind is made up. There is nothing more to be said and besides, Freya would want this. Not to mention Cullen. I am the only Warden, perhaps, with the freedom to join you, bizarrely enough. I wish we had some news from Hawke as to the situation in Weisshaupt! Perhaps Ranier will be able to depart and take my place at some point but until then….no, this is the only way.

‘So it is done,’ Leliana sighed with resignation, recognising all too well the stubborn set of Alistair’s jaw. ‘Pointless in trying to dissuade you. I will arrange what I can from here, although my reach in Tevinter is limited. There’s only one question that remains. When will you depart?’

‘Today,’ Lea stated firmly. ‘Alistair can’t do the pretty with Gaspard and I’ve already indulged in the formalities. There’s no further information they have on Vivienne that is useful. As far as he was concerned she was made Tranquil and that’s it.’

‘We have astonishingly little information on that source.’ Leliana frowned, irritated at Vivienne’s miraculous recovery. ‘I will keep searching and pass information on through the Legion of the Dead. They are the ones currently guarding that fissure are they not?’

‘Correct,’ Alistair nodded. ‘I also received word that there is a Shaper presence which is intriguing. Why would Bhelen send one of those out to what should be a routine sweep?’

‘You’ll get to find out soon enough,’ Leliana replied, her eyes sparkling with interest at that piece of intelligence. ‘It is rare for them to risk their status by going so close to the surface. What is going on down there? I almost wish I was going with you.’

‘Chantry intrigue too mundane for you these days, Nightingale?’ Lea teased, desperate to remove the nausea in the pit of her belly.

‘Dear Maker if you’re going into gossip count me out. I have packing to do.’ Alistair stood and hugged Leliana affectionately. ‘Don’t mother hen me, for heaven’s sake. We’re older and wiser this time round, don’t forget. We’ll be back and with Cullen too.’

‘Make sure you do, and eat properly please,’ Leliana replied primly, swatting Alistair on the arm. ‘None of that garbage you used to serve up on the trail and make sure you avoid that fungus? Remember that rash it gave you on your –.’

‘As I said, older and wiser.’ With a disarming grin and the seriousness of the previous conversation gone, Alistair opened the door, abruptly changing the conversation. ‘Oh hello, Seeker. I hear Trystan finally gathered his wits about him. Congratulations.’

With a courtly bow to a surprisingly flustered Cassandra, Alistair vanished to his rooms. His switch back to his lighthearted self was something Lea struggled to adjust to – a tactic he used on others to full effect. Guilt sat uncomfortably on her heart, no matter the surprisingly swift agreement he’d met her with. She’d been expecting a tougher fight on her hands. If she’d known just how worried her friends were about her, and if she was aware of the depth of history between Alistair and Cullen and a vow shared between them both she’d perhaps not be quite so taken aback..

As it was, Lea at that point only knew that she’d committed her most trusting and loyal friends to an expedition that contained nothing but peril and an uncertain future. Cassandra’s arrival provided a welcome distraction from her turbulent thoughts, Alistair’s parting words reminding Lea of the precious moment they’d all unwittingly interrupted.

‘Is there something you’d like to share, Cassandra?’ Leliana’s eyes glowed with happiness for her friend, not needing to be told what had transpired. ‘I seem to be the last to hear anything these days.’

‘I am not quite sure myself what happened to my morning.’ The two women warmly embraced, Lea pouring fresh tea for them all. ‘I had anticipated being well on the road to Caer Oswin by now. Alone.’

‘So what happened! Detail, please!’ Leliana exclaimed impatiently. ‘Dare I hope you have finally found the courage to accept Trystan’s court? I always miss the best bits!’

_Did I look like that? The same dazed, radiant glow of unadulterated happiness?_

_The one that only a woman in love gets when the man of her dreams makes her his wife?_

The three of them sat around the fire in Lea’s study, the cosy fire and heat of the mug warming Lea’s cold hands. The scalding water down her throat and hitting her belly did little to thaw the icy shard but at least focussed her on her friend’s happiness rather than her own misery. This was not her moment but Cassandra’s – one that had been too long in the making. Lea was damned if she’d ruin it.

‘We are engaged,’ Cassandra said wondrously, shy amazement in her tone and her features soft, as only a woman just proposed to could be. ‘I did not expect this – but it feels so right. I do not – I am so happy, I find myself short on words.’

Amidst a round of tears on Leliana’s part, they both took it in turn to hug Cassandra once more, exclamations of joy and pleasure between the two old friends in particular leaving Lea feeling oddly left out. With a mental shake of annoyance at her folly, she took a large gulp of her drink, sitting firmly back in her chair to gain control over her wayward emotions and not spit out the contents of her mouth across the table.

‘I believe congratulations are in order, my friend.’ Lea made a mental note to not use boiling tea as a form of distraction, rapidly sending a stream of magic to soothe her burnt mouth. ‘I am sorry we interrupted you in such dramatic fashion but I had no idea Trystan intended on making so – public – a display. We’d all gone down _en masse_ to beg you not to leave. My brother stole a march on us, though. And quite right too. How wonderful for you both.’

‘So what will you do? Will it be a big or small wedding? Nevarra or Ostwick?’ Leliana demanded a thousand details. ‘There is so much to plan!’

‘Hold on a minute!’ Cassandra’s look of horror made Lea giggle. ‘Do you honestly see me in a white frock at a grand state wedding in Nevarra City? No, thank you very much!’

‘I would love to marry you though.’ Leliana positively pouted. ‘And to see you in a dress, and I can find some time to help you choose it. The shoes, Cassandra! So important. Detail, detail. It’s what makes or breaks a day…’

‘Maker save me.’ Cassandra rolled her eyes. ‘There will be no big day. Trystan is a Templar and I am a Seeker. We need not bow to convention. I am sorry to disappoint you Leliana but we will be married when the time is right. For now…..now I find I am content with enjoying the novelty of an engagement.’

‘You are no fun,’ Leliana huffed with a moue of disappointment. ‘What am I to do with you?’

‘Let us be, my friend,’ Cassandra laughed, for one second looking like the carefree young woman she’d never been allowed to show to the world. ‘There is much to do. I may have a lead in Ferelden, just outside of Caer Oswin. If we are to rebuild the Seekers in the image of the new order of Chantry that you are creating, there is no time to waste.’

‘I hoped Trystan would follow you,’ Lea said quietly, heartbreak at the fragmentation of their little band searing in her chest. ‘I am so sad that we will be apart from you both but this is absolutely the right decision. Alistair and I will be departing with the others today. There is nothing more to be said, aside from adieu. It is not forever, after all.’

‘Don’t forget to wish us well and give both of us your blessing for a safe journey and a productive mission.’ Trystan lounged in the doorway, a smile on his face as his eyes automatically sought out Cassandra. ‘We leave now.’

‘So soon? But you just got here!’ Leliana voiced what Lea had been thinking, too caught up in the emotion of losing her brother and friend. ‘We have so much to discuss…..’

‘I was already packed in case I had to stampede after my runaway,’ Trystan’s eyes fell on Lea, questioning. ‘Besides, I understand from Alistair that the path ahead for you is far more perilous. Might I beg of a moment’s time with my sister, ladies?

Both women demurred, Lea promising that she would see them off before they departed. Trystan read her mind, as usual, watching her closely, concern in his gaze.

‘You know, sister, this is what I had intended? I do not want to part so abruptly but I understand from Alistair that you too have reached your decision.’ Regret warred with excitement and anticipation in Trystan’s midnight blue eyes. ‘I have been thinking of asking her – I just didn’t expect it to be so soon, nor on the gravel of the Inquisition’s embassy in Val Royeaux. It is done, however. Will you wish us both happy?’

Lea strode forward to give yet another hug of goodbye. There had been too many recently and she hadn’t even been around for all of them. She should be grateful that Trystan and Cassandra had at least stuck around long enough for her to congratulate them.

‘You do not need my permission but you do of course have my blessing,’ she assured him, stepping back with a hand on his shoulder. ‘I would dearly love to travel together but we will take a boat to our port in the Storm Coast, and I cannot think of another way to hide Alistair aside from inside a carriage in Val Royeaux. The time has come for you to finally follow your own path, my dearest brother. I am beyond delighted with the woman I will be able to call sister. Will you tell Mother and Father?’

‘I will write a quick note. Caya, Maker bless her, spared us all the need for a grand wedding with her own, so I can but pray Mother has it out of her system.’ Trystan grinned, pushing one unruly lock of black hair from his forehead. ‘She is doomed to disappointment with Cadan and me, although you never know, once you retrieve Cullen – which you most certainly will – you’ll be able to appease her.’

Lea wasn’t sure how she maintained her composure at Trystan’s unwitting teasing, plastering a smile on her face and waving her hand in a light gesture as she turned away. If he took one look at the tears welling up he’d know immediately that something was amiss. Instead, she reached for the Deep Roads report, wondering if there would be a time in her life when she wouldn’t pick up parchment to hide her trembling.

‘One thing at a time. I will sort this unholy mess out in Tevinter and then we will return. In the meantime there is a method to my madness in the Deep Roads because I know that is your other question.’ Her tears blinked away, Lea passed over the document. ‘Two birds with one stone. Until I figure out the nature of magic that Vivienne has placed over Cullen and me – for what else can it be? I must proceed with caution.’

‘Varric won’t thank you, that’s for sure. Nor, I suspect will Dorian. Maker, how did you persuade Alistair?’ Trystan switched to the seriousness of the situation once more. ‘There is something more here in between Scout Harding’s lines. A Shaper presence with the Legion of the Dead. Are earthquakes common in that part of Ferelden?’

‘I don’t know, but I do need a Grey Warden. He needs to find Freya. Our paths, for now, are linked.’ She smiled lightly. ‘Cadan will no doubt complain to high heaven but I am sure between the three of them they will find ways to pass the time underground. And I confess, I am intrigued to learn more of the Dwarven empire.’

‘You were ever curious and your learning does you credit, Lea.’ Trystan frowned, Lea sensing a lecture ahead. ‘The Deep Roads are overrun with darkspawn. Are you sure, with your history and susceptibility to red lyrium, that this is the wisest course? The Taint will be at its strongest.’

It was a question that haunted her nightmares and sleepless nights. The neverending whispering, calling, begging her to join them in their underworld hell. The rivers of red, bubbling, simmering with red lyrium poison, endlessly drawing her in.

‘Truth be told, I have no idea what to expect. But on that score, unless the stuff is rising out the ground and I’m touching it, no the Taint won’t be a problem.’ Whether she’d convinced Trystan or not was irrelevant. ‘There’s only one route we can take that won’t risk Cullen’s life and this is it.’

‘It will always be my job to ask you the difficult questions, Inquisitor. Brother’s prerogative.’ Trystan laughed, well aware he wasn’t going to get Lea to commit to anything further. ‘Now, why don’t we go and share the happy news with the others? I am ready to leave and don’t want to miss Varric’s face when you tell him.’

With another quick hug Lea followed him out of the study. Rapidly she calculated what she had to pack. Light as possible, with just her usual sturdy cloak and change of armour, a couple of Cullen’s shirts and her whiskey. She would probably reek by the end of it, wherever they emerged, but it would be worth the risk. Her mind was consumed, day and night, with how to reach Cullen safely. What trap he was caught in, she had yet to understand but hoped that she might, too find answers once they reached Tevinter.

‘Friends,’ she started without preamble, marching into the dining room. ‘Get packing. We’re heading to the Storm Coast and the Deep Roads.’

Cadan, Varric and Dorian stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. Only Trystan’s deep chuckle behind Lea cut the silence in the room, her twin and two friends for once stunned into silence at her abrupt proclamation.

‘That was every bit as good as I thought it would be.’ Trystan gave them all a genial wave as he left to prepare for his own departure. ‘I’ll see you all outside. Enjoy explaining this one, sister dear.’

‘You know what that place is like….gnnngh!’ Varric had, by this point, begun choking on his toast, his indignant protest drowned in a volley of back slaps from Dorian and Cadan’s mirthless chuckle. ‘Sparkler, where did you learn to hit like that! I’ll have a bruise between my shoulderblades that won’t help with all that fucking rock I’ll be sleeping on!’

‘Please explain, Lea, why you’ve decided upon descending down into the depths of hell? I am always fascinated by lost civilizations but preferably where I can appreciate the benefits of current ones.’ Dorian flipped Lea a sarcastic glare. ‘Like you know, a lack of marauding darkspawn and sunshine.’ 

‘Come on, people,’ Lea cajoled, sitting down at the table once more. ‘I have good reasons, so hear me out. First, can anyone tell me how Vivienne spirited Cullen away? No, didn’t think so. Until I know, I am travelling as far as I can undetected and that means underground. Anything, and I mean, anything that threatens his life is not a risk worth taking. I’d happily face a phalanx of raving monsters to ensure he lives.’

‘Dragging us with you,’ Varric grumbled, stabbing irately at a sausage. ‘Thanks for nothing.’

‘Secondly,’ Lea continued doggedly, ‘there is an issue Bhelan has asked us to look into. Those earthquakes on the Storm Coast? Affecting their lyrium mines and Maker knows what else. So I get to kill two birds with one stone, investigate the problem and travel incognito for a while.’

‘You make it sound so fucking easy, sister.’ Cadan snapped, irritated at not having been consulted and worry for her wellbeing gnawing at his temper. ‘Hordes of darkspawn coming out of the ground and you’ll just wave your hand and they’ll all disappear. How are you planning on getting around down there, or are you asking Varric to get out his torch and divining rod?’

‘Yeah yeah, I get it. You don’t want to go. But this isn’t a democracy,’ Lea stated baldy, snapping back at the one person she could safely lash out at. ‘You’ll be relieved to hear that I won’t have to rely on your dubious map reading skills. Alistair has agreed to come along. See, my dear friends and brother, I do understand the dangers that lurk beneath the surface of Thedas, contrary to your continual disbelief in my ability to lead!’

‘That’s not it and you know it.’ Dorian caught her frustration boiling over, disarming her temper with a genuine nod of concern. ‘We worry about you and we’ll follow you wherever you ask us to, Inquisitor. But you’re going to have to put up with a bit of nannying on our part. Anyway, rewind that last bit. Alistair is coming too?’

‘Freya,’ Varric grunted, still dismayed at the prospect of visiting a place that presumably haunted his nightmares too. ‘Makes sense. He knows something we don’t about that place. If I never see one more piece of red lyrium though, it will be too soon. Don’t make me go into any ancient thaigs ever again.’

‘We depart in an hour, by carriage to the port. We need to hide Alistair and no horses are necessary where we’re headed.’ Pushing her palms firmly into the table, Lea winced, a stab of green magic flaring unexpectedly up her left arm when she stood to leave. ‘We can say our final goodbyes to Leliana, Cassandra and Trystan then. It’s just us here on out, folks. Let’s try and keep things sane, for my sake?’

‘When you scowl like that, how can we resist your divine command, o Herald?’ Dorian was back to his usual sarcastic flippancy. ‘Work on that celestial light why don’t you. Frying unholy creatures in our path will make the journey go so much faster. Not to mention brighten up the place.’

‘Do I have to tell you how much I hate the Deep Roads? I’m a surface dwarf with no desire to reconnect with my roots whatsoever. Last time I was down there an alpha the size of a fucking house took out……’

Slipping out of the dining room and practically running to her quarters, Lea took deep heaving breaths. Her equilibrium was permanently shaken, rocking from one extreme to the other. With a sigh of relief she slammed the door of her bedroom shut, slumping heavily against the wood and sliding to the floor in a heap. Thankfully the heavy drapes were closed, the pounding in her brain not willing to tolerate the bright morning sunlight that only added to her disorientation. She was beyond fed up of her dramatic mood swings and inability to keep her temper under check with those she loved the most. Outbursts of impatience were common for Lea but this cantankerous viciousness was something alien to her nature.

Her hand slipped under her collar, the warmth of the chain pressing into her skin. The white gold locket and faded Ferelden silver rested against the muted green glow in her left hand, the two items precious beyond reckoning to Lea. How many times she’d traced the lines of each, in a forlorn attempt to keep a piece of Cullen in her life, Lea had lost count.

Shaking fingers undid the catch on the locket, two beautiful images filling Lea’s vision as she traced the tip of her nail over the firm planes of Cullen’s face. There was no one to witness her folly when she pressed her lips to each image, whispering words of love and promises of security as she always did when alone. The gift of having Cullen’s picture with her no matter the location was something she’d never be able to express her full gratitude for.

‘Not to mention Josephine would have a fit if I cantered off with your portrait on the back of Horse,’ Lea said with a quick chuckle. ‘Shit, if they knew I was sat here talking to your locket they’d shut me up in some tower. Hell, sometimes I’d lock me up. But this – it’s the only way I know how to cope. To keep you close. Remember when we were here last? My own proposal from my own knight in shining armour. Maybe there’s something in the air of Val Royeaux that brings lovers together at long last.’

With a sigh Lea tucked away the locket and Ferelden silver, nestling once more in the valley between her breasts. The permanent pressure was one she welcomed, the regular conversations between her and Cullen’s picture the only thing that prevented her from crossing the line into insanity. Crazy though that itself sounded.

Scrambling to her feet once more, the moment of panic and rage having passed, Lea felt giddy. Hastily she flung a few items into her bags, climbing into her favourite travelling armour and cloak. Her hair was already bound around her head, Lea skewering pins in to secure the last unruly strands and welcoming the deliberate pain.

It didn’t matter. Finally she had her plan and she would be underway. Itching for a good fight, she’d be able to take her bad mood out on something more deserving than her poor family. The rage kept her alive, gave her focus. With a final flourish, her staff firmly on her back and her pack on her shoulders, she was ready.

‘No matter the distance, we will never be far apart.’ Lea spoke her promise out loud. ‘Never did I dream we would be so tested, my love. Nor you, I suspect. I will find you though. There is no place on this earth that she can hide you from me. I am coming. At last.’


	10. Haunting the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers. I am so sorry this has taken such a long time to arrive. I lost my job due to illness and was on a course of very strong drugs for my bipolar and PTSD. Only recently has my head been clear enough to write. But it was wonderful to come back to Cullen and Lea and hopefully now I will be able to update much more regularly! Enjoy :)

It was a niggling itch that lay just under the surface of his skin, one that Cullen could never quite satisfy no matter how much his nails scoured his forearms. He’d forgotten this supposedly minor side-effect of lyrium – the crawling sensation as if freezing, shifting grains of sand were permanently on the move right in the spots he couldn’t reach. Gritting his teeth, he pointedly ignored the desire to claw madly between his shoulder blades, focussing instead on his breathing. A trick, funnily enough, that Leaena had taught him when nightmares blended into a false dawn in the middle of the night.

_In through my nose, out through my mouth, in through my nose, out through my mouth, deep breaths, one after the other….._

_This is easy enough, something that I’ve seen other mages practice often over the years. So why only with her did I truly understand?_

Errant thoughts flickered through his mind as he fixed his gaze squarely on the tuft of mane between his horse’s ears. He allowed them to swirl, acknowledging with each intake of cool morning air that, without her presence in his life, his rehabilitation would only have gone so far. Cullen had rejected anything mages did as sinister, something alien, even though there truly was little difference to this highly pleasant meditation compared to the silent contemplation Templars undertook as part of their devotions to the Maker.

His Inquisitor had shown him there truly was nothing to be afraid of, that his rejection of that which he failed to comprehend was nothing more than his own prejudice at play. Once he’d come to that realisation Cullen had, with almost every crushing migraine and vomit-inducing panic attack, closed his ears to nothing but Leaena’s low, musical voice calmly instructing him to breathe. If he sometimes seemed distant in meetings or conversation, in all likelihood he was fighting against himself, fighting against the demon that had taken up permanent residence in his brain.

Leaena had, as ever, given him a way out, one that had a multitude of purposes even when he’d once again sunk to his lowest. Consuming lyrium once more…..he’d thought himself strong. Vivienne had blown away his arrogant dreams. Cullen was too weak to challenge her assumptions, too terrified that if he got it wrong, death by lyrium would be but a pleasant endnote given the alternative. Yet even with physical discomfort and self-doubt plaguing him once more, Leaena had reached out to him over the distance, ever his anchor in a world gone mad.

_Breathe for me, my love. That’s it, one, two, one, two……focus on me, and only me._

_Always and forever…._

As ever, all roads led to Leaena, even out here in the middle of nowhere. A simple fact Cullen clung onto. He had to believe that somehow, in amidst the seeming hopelessness of his situation, there was a path back to her – a route that would become clear when the time was right. He’d truly go mad otherwise, similar to the early days of numbness and utter despair when he’d first set out with Vivienne into the wilderness.

He glanced across at her serene countenance, Vivienne riding a knackered nag he’d picked up for her as they’d headed north across Orlais’ lush farmland. She’d insisted on such a humble mount, convinced it added weight to their disguise. He couldn’t disagree. Vivienne, in homespun cotton his sisters wouldn’t be seen dead in, her long midnight hair tied in a simple braid wound round her head, was so far removed from the dangerously glamorous court siren even he’d had to blink at first. She was relaxed, enjoying the journey to Tevinter by all outward accounts. The odd band of Chevaliers and Imperial soldiers they’d encountered hadn’t even given them a second glance.

‘People only see what they want to, my dear.’ Vivienne also had an uncanny ability to read his mind, it seemed. ‘You included. And before you think I’m casting spells into your brain, you are an open book sometimes, Cullen. I told you we would have little trouble leaving Orlais and the border is only a day’s ride now.’

‘I see enough,’ Cullen replied with a sigh, his few moments of Leaena-dreaming shattered. ‘On the surface at least. As to the rest of it, your motivations – I will never understand. I’m not sure I want to. Please keep the inner workings of your mind from mine. I’m not sure I’d withstand the shock.’

‘You do have such flattering assessments of my abilities,’ Vivienne laughed gaily, as usual at his expense. ‘I am but a simple creature with the same needs as anyone. My motivations should not be hard to understand.’

Cullen was saved from replying as they approached the village. His feigned solicitousness of her wellbeing at the various farms and inns they’d infrequently called in on had been pushed to the limit. Travelling under the guise of husband and wife caused him a pain in his heart that repeatedly stabbed at him every time he had to touch Vivienne and lift her on and off the scraggly animal. He survived by saying little, procuring what was needed and getting on with the task at hand. Sleeping out in the open rather than share a room had been par for the course as they shied away from too much human contact. For the last two weeks he’d been successful in the main at avoiding the pretence, standing watch and grabbing naps when he could.

‘Ah, what a welcome sight.’ Vivienne’s husky words, spoken in Orlesian, grated his nerves. ‘I recall the Three Feathers had a fine kitchen. I am sure, my husband, that you can procure a suitable room for us both. I find myself in need of a wash and a comfortable bed.’

Cullen stared at her in dismay. ‘We must be careful of…..your health….’ He stammered, the need to be circumspect making him trip over his tongue. In keeping with their disguise they had both spoken Orlesian whenever in proximity to others, to blend in with the other peasants.  

‘You have nothing to fear, although I am grateful for your concern.’ Vivienne blinked at him, a look of malice clear in her eyes, knowing how much this would be costing him. ‘We will dine in relative splendour tonight and sleep well in a feather bed.’

_Over my dead body._

Helpless to argue, Cullen nodded his head, scratched at his beard and led them to the stables. He slid off his mount, flicking a coin to the boy who’d rushed forward to take the reins of the mounts. Vivienne leaned into him as she always did, her large breasts pushed firmly up against his chest as he helped her down. It was a deliberately provocative move by her. Refusing to show his discomposure, Cullen instead forced a smile on his face and dutifully kissed her cheek, playing the game down to the wire. Solicitously he rubbed her shoulders, wondering if there was a way he could force her hand as much as she tried with him, then decided such a clash of wills in the middle of public view would be unwise.

‘Come,’ Cullen gestured to the inn’s front door. ‘I will see to the horses once you are settled in a suitable room. We must pray to the Maker that there are no fleas left by previous guests, for with your delicate skin that would surely mark you permanently.’

Vivienne’s slight scowl as he ushered her inside was victory enough for Cullen at that point, arranging for a simple room for the two of them and a bath to be sent up straight away. The inn was a cheerful place, one that he wouldn’t have minded bringing Leaena to on the tour of Thedas that they’d laughingly promised themselves. A bright fire burned merrily in the grate of the cosy taproom lined with oak and blue chairs, the few patrons at that time of day mainly men too old to work the fields. Cullen’s mouth started to water at the aroma of game pie coming from the kitchen, his stomach growling in appreciation at the thought of a hearty and honest meal for the first time since….

_Ouch._

_Don’t go there, Cullen._

‘Thank you, ser, for your hospitality.’ Quickly Cullen passed a pouch of coins over to the innkeeper to pay for the night’s lodging. ‘No, no I shall take the bags myself and escort my…wife upstairs before I avail myself of your fine selection of ales.’

Except it was the wrong wife. Hastily Cullen gathered up the bags, the precious vials of lyrium hidden in the bottom of two of them not something he wanted to explain. Humble farm folk would barely be aware of the stuff, let alone be carrying a king’s ransom’s worth of supply.

Silently he ushered Vivienne up the stairs, letting her lead the way to their room down the corridor. It was a bright and airy space, Cullen noticing with relief that there was an armchair in the corner he’d be able to sleep in. Hell, the solid wooden floor was more appealing than sharing a bed with Madame de Fer.

‘Here you go. Your bath will be up shortly – I will avail myself of the facilities later.’ Cullen tossed the bags onto the bed and went to stare out of the window. ‘After I’ve had an ale. Best play your part too, _wife_. No woman would deny her hardworking husband the chance of a drink after a hard day’s travel.’

‘I’m not some ogre, Cullen, much though you persist in believing otherwise.’ Languidly Vivienne stretched by the fire, shaking out her glossy mane of jet-black hair – another thing Cullen still couldn’t get used to. ‘You have all the time in the world to learn.’

‘Your motivations? Keep them to yourself. I know all that I need to know about you.’ Shrugging off his battered jacket, Cullen checked in the mirror for any telltale signs of blonde coming through his beard and hair, satisfied that there was enough growth now to cover the scar on his upper lip. ‘Your wellbeing ensures Leaena’s wellbeing so I expect you to rest and look after yourself. I’ll see you for dinner when you are ready.’

‘So attached to that silly little mage still.’ Vivienne watched him with amusement as Cullen located his lyrium, checking the vials were still intact. ‘You’re like a pet dog, slavering your devotion on your master. How fortunate I am to reap the benefit.’

‘I’m a Ferelden, so I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Cullen flashed a grin at the hint of irritation Vivienne’s pursed lips gave away, happy with scoring a hit no matter how childish. ‘Never underestimate the underdog, Vivienne.’

With an insolent whistle Cullen left her to it, just as two elven serving girls appeared with a cast-iron tub. ‘For your trouble.’ A shining silver for each, in case Vivienne took out her bad humour on the girls, eased his conscience. As he practically ran down the stairs and into the taproom once more, he realised this was only the second time he’d been alone. Not much had changed from the last time. He was still stuck in the middle of nowhere, under thrall to Vivienne’s madness with the grip of lyrium addiction firmly chaining him back to his past.

On that dismal thought he ordered an ale. Looking around the room, he settled on a table with an abandoned game of chess. Anything that bought Leaena closer. Nursing the jug in his cupped hands, Cullen sighed inwardly. He was desperate to have some quiet time to order his thoughts. The overriding drive to find an escape route out of a seemingly impossible situation occupied almost every waking thought, Cullen unhappily aware that he was no closer to finding a solution to saving Leaena’s life than he had been that stormy night back in Skyhold. So far he was stuck, struggling to hide his disdain and disgust of a woman he couldn’t tolerate, yet needing to feign some semblance of normality to ensure Leaena’s survival.

_I’m missing something, going about this all wrong!_

_But what can I do, dammit there must be a better solution…._

Cullen leant back in the chair, looking up to the brown beams of the roof above. He was grateful for the relative peace of the taproom, the murmur of men’s gruff voices complaining about the recent poor weather a welcome reminder that there was a real world outside of the hellish pit he’d been flung into.

Vivienne constantly surprised him. That he’d seriously underestimated her prior to her Tranquility was evident, even after the trick she’d pulled with their signet rings and messages between him and Leaena. No, he corrected himself, where he’d gone wrong was missing her driving need for survival at any cost. First it was her ascension to Court Enchanter, then him and Leaena, then it was allying herself both to Celene and Corypheus. And now, somehow, here she was walking amongst them all without a care in the world, as if being made Tranquil and having the Rite reversed was nothing more arduous than a walk in the park.

Cullen would never admit this to Leaena, but he was developing a grudging respect for Vivienne’s tactics and survivability, even when all the odds were so firmly stacked up against her. He was, however, firmly convinced that the Rite’s reversal had made a significant, and negative, impact on Vivienne. The Madame de Fer of old would never have allowed a flaw to show, but the gleam of pure irrationality he’d spotted back in Val Chevin had appeared over and over again. Vivienne knew she wasn’t entirely in control of herself and that was the one weakness Cullen had currently spotted in his otherwise hopeless position. It gave him no comfort. An unstable Vivienne was far more dangerous than a sane one.

He’d never misjudge Vivienne ever again.

Mindlessly, he lined up the board, beginning a game against himself. Cullen picked up a knight, feeling the weight of the wooden piece in his hand. He was taken back to a night so long ago, when he’d travelled alone with Leaena, and she’d surprised him with a simple chess travel set similar to this one – far less ornate than the one she’d gifted him with at Satina. It harked back to a simpler time when he’d just been Cullen the ex Templar in repair, and she’d been Leaena the mage with a strange green magic in her hand. Cullen couldn’t have imagined the journey they’d gone on would end up with him skulking in a tavern, enjoying some precious-won freedom from a woman he despised and feared in equal measure.

_Would I change a thing though?_

Just as he pondered that thought, the landlord plonked down a plate of food in front of him. Since resuming the daily draughts of lyrium Cullen had less of an appetite, but to keep up the gruelling training schedule he insisted on whilst they were on the road meant he had to eat. The ham and cheese was simple fayre, more reminiscent of the food he’d been served as a boy and a Templar rather than the fancy offerings from Josephine’s Orlesian chef. A low chuckle escaped him at the memory of enjoying a hearty stew in the barracks before he’d had to sit through one of the dreary dinners he’d been forced to attend as a senior member of the Inquisition.

Chewing thoughtfully, grateful for a respite from thinking on Vivienne’s machinations, he returned to his earlier question.

_No. She lives, and that is enough._

For all that he felt like a carthorse had kicked him in the solar plexus a thousand times a day from missing her, for all his loneliness on this strange journey through a part of the world he’d no interest in seeing, Cullen knew he was needed. This was beyond Leaena’s red lyrium crisis, beyond Corypheus and his insane ideas of domination, even beyond Sampson’s brutal abuse. Cullen had been born to protect and by travelling with Vivienne, leaving her behind, he was doing what he did best.

‘That damned spell,’ Cullen murmured with renewed determination. ‘Find a way to sever the connection and then she’ll be free.’

Remembering where he was, Cullen clamped his mouth shut. The spell that bound Vivienne and Leaena together was an ancient blood magic ritual, one only known to senior Templars. Or so he’d thought. It was this dark magic which bonded a mage’s phylactery to the Chantry was born, enabling any Templar to hunt down and destroy maleficar.

Such symbiotic, deeply ancient and evil magic harked from a time before the formation of the First Inquisition, the Second Blight and the formation of the Templar Order. Binding two souls together through a blood bond, with a dependency on the other similar to a mother and an unborn child in the womb, had been deemed too dangerous and, so Cullen had been taught, all traces of how to conjure the spell had been destroyed.

The Templar’s shame for using blood magic, that which they supposedly abhorred, had been adapted to its current form – the bonding of a mage’s phylactery allowed as a one-off instance for their supposed safety. Or so the Chantry had preached. Cullen to this day wondered if he’d ever be free of the guilt and hypocrisy he’d been in servitude to for so long. It would be all too easy to rage at the depths to which some had plumbed to find control over another, but that was hardly helpful. He was the one who had to figure this out on his own.

Deciding Vivienne had spent long enough in the bath, and wanting to pursue this line of thinking, Cullen thanked the innkeeper and slowly made his way upstairs. Pushing open the door, he sank down on a bed he had no intention of sleeping in and pulled off his boots, scratching in annoyance at his beard. There was something niggling at him as memories of the scant amount he’d been taught chased around and around in his head.

‘So deep in thought, Cullen. You look like you’d be better suited to a library, furthering your study.’

The silky, hated voice interrupted his thoughts just when he hadn’t wanted to lose its train, Cullen looking up at Vivienne who’d appeared from the sheeted off bathing area with as much indifference as he could muster. She truly was beautiful, wearing a virtually transparent robe over luscious curves, walking sinuously over towards him with an inviting smile on her lips. Cullen’s eyes locked in on the vial of blood round her neck, held in place with magical wards he hadn’t had the chance to study. The sight of Leaena’s life force there, singing to him still was as much of a mood killer even if he’d been remotely tempted.

‘How did you do it?’ he blurted out, more from frustration than anything else. ‘Don’t act coy and seductive to try and change the subject, Vivienne. How did you get her blood for the ritual? Not while you were at Skyhold that’s for certain.’

‘Oh why not? We’re far enough now that it doesn’t matter.’ Vivienne sat at the dresser, drying her hair with a light wave that made Cullen want to vomit, so similar was the gesture to Leaena’s. ‘There was always a chance her original phylactery would be destroyed so I had to make a new one. You found her ‘official’ blood didn’t you?’

‘In the wilds of the Storm Coast, yes. That phylactery is as easily destroyed as the one round your neck. Or it should be.’ The notes of Leaena’s magic told him otherwise, whispering to proceed with the utmost of caution. ‘You’ve got it locked up tighter than Eamon’s Treasury.’

‘So you remember how to jest.’ Vivienne took her time with her long brush strokes. ‘When she threw her hissy fit in Montsimmard I ordered one of the Templars to take some before she was made Tranquil. She was fighting so hard she probably can’t remember. It was a precautionary measure that the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander agreed on.’

‘You all stole her blood?’ Cullen took deep breaths, reminding himself that to snap Vivienne’s neck in two right now would have the same effect on Leaena. ‘Without her permission?’

‘Save me the bullshit, _Knight-Commander_. You were in Kirkwall where all kinds of dubious practices were routine.’ Vivienne’s scorn hit a spot of burning shame deep in the pit of his stomach. ‘This was no different. I merely retrieved her second phylactery after the Circle fell, for safekeeping at a time it may become necessary. The time became necessary so here we are.’

With a huge effort, Cullen bought his temper under control. Railing against what had already happened would achieve him nothing. He began to strip off his boots and cloak, indicating that he was ready for his own wash. Anything to distract him from the murderous wave of emotion coursing through him.

‘But the spell. How did you know about the spell? Only the most senior of Templars know the history. I wouldn’t know where to find out how to enact the ritual, let alone seal the phylactery.’

‘Oh that was easy, my dear. I knew about the origins of the spell for years and some rooting around revealed all the knowledge I needed to complete it.’ Vivienne stood, slipping on one of her simple dresses and sturdy boots, for all the image of a wholesome young wife out travelling with her doting husband. ‘Leaena thinks she could control me through the Rite? Well I’ve got one up on her that she’ll never be able to break.’

For a second Vivienne came and stood before Cullen, her sultry scent of spice and cinnamon so different to Leaena’s fresh, light orange blossom he was hard pushed to not weep. ‘You’re mine now, Cullen, and the sooner you accept it the better. There is no reversal of the spell save both of our deaths. Accept your fate and things will be easier for you. I am a good mistress in many ways, I think you’ll find.’

Cullen didn’t budge as Vivienne placed a kiss at the hollow of his throat, staring stonily ahead as he waited for her unwanted ministrations to end. With a throaty chuckle she stepped back, waving a hand at the bathtub to refill it for him.

‘So stubborn. Just what is required. You’ll do, my Templar. I shall wait downstairs for you.’

With a silent click of the door, Vivienne was gone. Cullen stared in consternation at the closed door for a moment before appreciating the relative freedom of being alone. He tried not to be too disturbed at how taking his lyrium had so quickly become second nature once more, knocking a vial back before stowing away his supply safely and standing for a moment in a blue haze of pleasure. With a kick to himself Cullen moved, stripping quickly, hating his gratitude towards Vivienne for leaving him with a hot bath.

He sank into the tub with a low sigh, the warmth of the water going some way to removing the lyrium chill. Except that was as nothing to the ice that sank  into his soul at Vivienne’s prophecy. Sinking his head under the water he lathered up his hair and then scrubbed every inch of his body clean, particularly the spot where Vivienne had laid warm lips against the pulse in his throat. Washing took his mind off his troubles, or so he wistfully thought. Leaning his head back against the tub, ablutions finished, he compared the press of Vivienne’s practiced seductions with Leaena’s heartfelt kisses over every inch of his body, determined that one would never supersede the other.

‘Oh my lady, it’s been so long,’ Cullen whispered, the memory of a naked Leaena fluidly diving into a frozen lake, seducing him for the first time suddenly filling his vision.

Without thought, he reached for his cock, already semi-hard from that one thought alone, its slippery length made more sensitive by the soap and water. In this guaranteed privacy Cullen had no choice but to let go, to remember all that she was and more.

The first time after he’d said goodbye at her lodge in Haven, the incredible sensation of feeling her magic and his lyrium combine as they masturbated together, driving him to a high he’d not been aware existed. Cullen was, even now, able to feel the heat of that night, his imagination able to replace images with reality.

He let out a groan, stroking his now hardened cock faster and teasing the head with his thumb. One circling stroke after another was a poor replacement for her loving expertise. But it was all he had, this chance to fully revel in what they’d shared together, in yet another vain attempt to bring her closer to his heart.

Leaena had spread her legs invitingly on her desk, wearing nothing but long black boots and inviting him to fuck her. He was there, holding her up against a mirror, watching her face contort in a thousand different pleasures as he fingered her from behind before fucking her hard, making her beg and plead for more, his name being whispered in exhilaration over and again a balm of honey over his fractured soul.

‘Leaena, my lady…. Oh Maker….’ Harder and faster Cullen’s fist pumped now, the water splashing over the side as he arched his back and clenched his ass. One hand gripped the side of the metal tub and the other wrapped round his cock hard. Memory after seductive, mindblowing memory overwhelmed him, showing him just how his wife was perfect in every single way.

There they were at her cottage in Ostwick, new lovers exploring each other, Leaena’s tentative delight in soaping down his naked body ending up in more hilarity and downright naughty sex than Cullen had realised possible. Then it was the wilderness of the Western Approach. Cullen had, quite possibly never been as turned on so badly when they’d fought each other tooth and nail. The bruising, bloodied kiss, the memory of Leaena’s lithe body in that outfit, straddling him in her primeval victory was enough to nearly push him over the edge.

‘Fuck!’ He was moaning out loud now, hissing through his teeth as he looked down at the straining head of his cock. His thumb was moving so rapidly and his grip was so firm, Cullen knew he had but seconds before he came hard. He couldn’t stop himself, this being the first time he’d had a chance to have any privacy and to wallow in memories of the white-blonde beauty he was still determined to one day call wife.

Sorting through the multitude of sexual memories, Cullen nearly lost all control, especially when he remembered just how thoroughly she’d sucked his cock on the war table, and the blatantly sensual game she’d played with him the whole evening which had ended in such intense ecstasy.

‘Leaena, my life……my love……oh Maker I can’t…..’

His fist pumping hard and fast Cullen’s head tilted over the back of the tub in mindless bliss, the recollection of his wife to be just after he’d proposed, in stockings, the wetness between her legs smeared across her thighs as he’d just had his taste of her, juices covering his chin as he stared up in worship at her languid, satisfied smile. Leaena had ridden him then, hard and fast and with a need so furious the two of them had been left in tears, emotionally wrung out in a way which went well beyond mere sexual exhaustion.

Just at that moment Cullen came hard, shaking and shivering in the now cooling bathtub, his skin electric and his balls tightening. Semen pooled around his chest and tears streamed down his face at the sudden release, missing Leaena more than he could ever have dreamed possible. Looking down at himself, supine in the tub, knees up and his cock twitching on his lower abdomen, Cullen wondered if he’d ever felt more wretched.

It was the first time he’d allowed himself to have any sexual thoughts since leaving, and the last time he’d had any form of release since their final magical night together.

‘She is my wife…you are my wife, Leaena. I need no Chantry sister to declare it so.’ His choked whisper into the dimming afternoon was the only promise he could make. ‘I will find a way to end this and I will come home. Oh Maker, I miss you!’

It was true. For all that Vivienne declared there to be no escape, Cullen refused to accept it. He’d lived through too much, seen and experienced too much, to accept failure and defeat now.

Cullen allowed his head to loll back, the small aftershocks of his orgasm turning his body limp. That had to be the most unsatisfactory session of seeing to himself, but it had the benefit of clearing his head and refocussing on what was important. He allowed himself another few minutes of wishful thinking, daydreaming of all the times he’d fallen asleep, sated and relaxed, safe within her arms.

_No such luxury here._

_Just stony cold water and my memories, a poor replacement for the real thing._

Suddenly impatient, he wanted to be dressed, an urgency to find a way out of the quagmire he and Leaena were stuck in pressing him on. Self-pity would achieve him precisely nothing. Cullen cleaned himself up, threw on roughspun clothing and sat on the bench by the window, preparing himself mentally for the next round of deadly sparring with his captor.  

\------

It was early evening as he eventually made his way downstairs, Cullen’s stomach growling again even though he’d only eaten a couple of hours earlier. The inn was busier now, with labourers enjoying a brew after a hard day in the fields. Vivienne was sitting quietly in the same secluded corner he’d occupied, fiddling with the chess set much as he had earlier. Cullen watched her, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He refused to give way to melancholy.

At that point, Vivienne looked up, catching his eye. She gave him the sweetest smile, so much so that no one looking at the two of them would see anything but a besotted couple. Cullen knew better. Vivienne had just thrown the gauntlet down again, daring him to be anything less than the devoted husband in front of so many witnesses.

_Is that the way it is? So be it._

_Two can play that game._

A wave of inspiration struck Cullen. It was time for him to try a different tack with his captor, rather than his usual open defiance. An idea formed in his mind, one that might help give him a better insight into his enemy. With a bit of luck, it might even throw her off balance and reveal something useful, a feat Cullen had yet to achieve.

‘Thank you for the bath water,’ he said politely as he sat opposite her. ‘The food here is plentiful and of good quality so you may choose what you wish and not worry about the consequences.’

‘I have taken the liberty of ordering the rabbit stew for both of us. You look like you need feeding up.’ Vivienne eyed him critically. ‘Is it really necessary for you to train two hours a day?’

‘Do you want a protector or not? Well then,’ Cullen replied cheerfully as he considered his next words. ‘We could always practice further with you, the hunted mage. I have a feeling that those Templar skills of mine will come in handy where we are headed.’

He was fishing of course, but the suspicious glare Vivienne shot him gave it away. She’d never come and said it outright, but she wanted a Templar, and not one of those make-believe ones in the Tevinter Empire. Cullen remembered well the chaos southern Templars had caused in the Imperium when they’d been sent to support Varric’s cousin Magister Maevarius, and he’d long guessed at Vivienne’s true motivations for dragging him along.

‘So,’ he carried on conversationally, ‘do you fancy a game? It’s too early to go to bed and if I think you’ve got in mind for me is correct, I need to sharpen my skills against an expert. You do play, don’t you?’

‘What kind of ignorant fool do you take me for?’

Cullen’s luck was in so far. The imbalance in Vivienne was pushing her to reveal emotion she would normally skilfully hide. Cullen cheered internally, all while deciding not to push too hard.

Tonight, a charm offensive would be his major ally.

‘Chess is, of course, my preferred method of passing my free time,’ he replied conversationally, setting up the board. ‘I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you than to be a master, Vivienne. Believe it or not I do have respect for your intelligence and strategic thinking. I would enjoy a game with a player of your calibre.’

His compliment threw her, Vivienne gaping at him in confusion as he sat back, gesturing for her with her white pieces to start the play. She flicked one long length of hair contemptuously over one shoulder and, with her lips pressed together, made the opening move.

‘Well,’ she said with a condescending smile as she sat backwards, ‘this makes a pleasant change from the surly soldier I’ve had keeping me company these last couple of months. I know you are a player of some renown, Cullen. Let’s see where this game takes us, shall we?’

_Indeed._

_How much of your strategy can I uncover in this session_?

‘So tell me,’ Vivienne cut into his thoughts as he planned his next moves. ‘How did you come to the conclusion that I need a fully functioning Templar? There are Templars in Tevinter you know.’

Cullen’s snort of derision actually made Vivienne chuckle.

‘I have said this before, but you hide your own intelligence particularly well, Cullen. Then again, free thinking is not something the Chantry ever encouraged.’

‘Then why don’t you tell me what you are planning? I don’t understand why this need for secrecy now.’ Cullen shrugged, his Bishop taking one of her pawns before settling back to observe the board. ‘To keep you alive is of paramount importance to me. Tevinter is even worse than Orlais, filled with sharks and hidden snake pits. I need to be prepared for whatever we may encounter. It therefore is in my interest to work with you to ensure that happens. Besides, fighting you has been getting me nowhere.’

That last statement was at least true. The more he fought against his bonds the more Vivienne delighted in his distress.

‘You have a point.’ Vivienne pursed her lips, her Queen snaking across the board to take his Castle. ‘How much were you briefed on the current political situation in Tevinter?’

‘In a nutshell? That the war with the Qun is severely depleting their resources, that there’s serious rumblings in the slave quarters – something akin to what we are witnessing in Orlais. The usual jostling for position with Archon Radonis has reached a fever pitch and that the only real way to curry support is through blood magic. He reached out to the Inquisition after we were done at the Winter Palace. Apparently the Inquisitor is enough of a curiosity to warrant his interest.’ Cullen gave a dismissive wave. ‘It’s the usual cesspool although the slave movements are particularly worthy of note. All is not well in Tevinter.’

‘It is a bird ripe for plucking and you will help me, my dear husband.’ Vivienne wasn’t content to take the sting out of the evening’s conversation it seemed. ‘You’re losing rather a lot of your markers. Where are you going this evening?’

‘Templars will disrupt magister magic. You’re going to use me to gain favour with the Archon, put down some of his more troublesome magisters and win favour that way.’ Cullen ignored her jibing, hitting right to the heart of the matter. ‘You couldn’t care less for the slave uprising though you ignore it at your peril, _wife_. You dream of starting a new House. I admire you for your audacious vision, if nothing else.’

It was beyond him to remain entirely civil. Cullen had just realised with an unpleasant jolt, in order to secure Leaena’s survival, he was expected to commit murder.

‘You are going to be killing blood mages, Cullen. Maleficar. It’s hardly murder.’ Vivienne again read his mind, allowing her Queen to boldly move forward into a position of strength on the board. ‘It’s your job, your sworn purpose. I fail to see the problem.’

‘Do you have proof? Dorian assuring me that everyone dabbles is hardly the same as guaranteed evidence.’ The Knight-Commander signet ring hanging round his neck weighed a stone as he considered the possibilities, his old oaths sitting heavily on his conscience. ‘I’m not some avenging angel, come to purge the halls of the magisterium. Besides, I’m only one man. You can’t seriously expect a bloodbath?’

‘Subtlety was never your strong point.’ Vivienne scowled down at the board as his Knight successfully countered her Queen. ‘How you manage such a deft hand at chess defies the imagination. There will be people joining our little party, darling, with talents to complement our own. Between us we will contrive to gain an audience with the Archon. I don’t want to disrupt the power balance so much in Tevinter that all becomes chaos. No, Cullen, you will be used as and when I need you and not a moment before. Try to be patient, my dear, and all will become obvious.’

He filed away the knowledge that others would be joining, to be explored at another time. Cullen took her final Bishop, Vivienne’s pawns long gone. They were down to a handful of pieces on the board, the strength in his strategy finally showing as he pursued her favoured piece – unsurprisingly the Queen, across the board. He’d found her weak spot, in her arrogance and need to be elevated socially above all else. It was that which honed her survival instinct that had caught them all out again and again.

‘Checkmate.’

It didn’t mean Vivienne was bad at chess. It was just that he was better. Cullen sat back, feeling strangely satisfied with defeating her after one of the most convoluted games he’d played in some time. Her Queen was lined up firmly with the rest of her markers on his side of the table, her King exposed on all sides. In the end, it had been easy to gain the upper hand. Such a victory also gave him confidence that, he might one day head her down an alleyway from which there was no escape, just like the chessboard.

_Chess rarely lies, after all, revealing a player’s Achille’s heel in real life too._

_What is Vivienne going to have to offer Radonis that the Inquisitor can’t?_

‘Well played Cullen.’ Vivienne looked at him for the first time with a hint of respect. ‘A deserved win. Just in time for our food to finally arrive. Using one’s brain does work up an appetite, I find.’

‘Thank you, Vivienne. You are a skilled player too, and it was enjoyable to pit my wits against a worthy adversary.’ That she had always been, although in his head Cullen dropped the ‘worthy’. ‘A good choice on the stew. It is excellent.’

Vivienne was in a benign mood, the instability in her clearly showing a vulnerability for human contact that Cullen hadn’t, until now, taken into account. Vivienne, who held herself apart from all others, was lonely. Her walls had come down in the short space of time Cullen had shown her a hint of warmth. The old Vivienne needed adulation, needed to know that she was not necessarily loved, but respected and even feared. The new Vivienne needed human comfort on top of it all, a change no doubt bought about by the reversal of the Rite.

Cuddling up to a snake was the last thing on Cullen’s to do list, but so far he’d been more productive this evening than he had in the entire two months he’d been away.

‘I must say Cullen, that you’ve coped well with the lyrium. I would have expected you to come along and not taken it, so dedicated you were to giving up the Chantry’s control.’

_So much for polite conversation._

_Although I guess this is a compliment of sorts._

‘I saw your note and it left me with no choice. I didn’t need to take lyrium in the Inquisition. Out here, I do, if I am to serve to the best of my ability.’ It had been a simple choice, one he always promised Leaena he’d make if he had to. ‘I never anticipated taking lyrium again but I also never said never. Where we’re going, I need it.’

‘It will devastate Leaena when she realises.’ Vivienne’s eyes glittered with glee at the thought of Leaena being hurt. All Cullen’s good intentions of behaving himself nearly flew out of the window at such vicious spite.

‘I do what I have to in order to protect her.’ Cullen laid down his spoon, put off the food. ‘It is my decision, not hers, whether I take lyrium or not. Besides, why do you care so much about her reaction? I thought that disrupting our relationship was the least of your interests.’

‘I’m surprised you fell for her bullshit, Cullen. A man like you, who has had to work hard to earn respect of his peers and charges.’ Now the insanity showed, an insanity it seemed, solely devoted to Leaena. ‘She is a spoilt princess who never had to lift a finger in her life. From the moment she entered the Circle at Ostwick until her departure – people fawned over her. You know that rank still matters? Of course you do, having watched some Templars with noble backgrounds rise where others are left languishing – don’t deny it. Her disdain for the very institution that gives us our power! Leaena wasn’t a rebel mage but she was a rebel mage sympathiser – look at that nonsense by giving them their ‘freedom’ – a freedom you just know they’ll abuse.’

Vivienne wasn’t wrong – there had been nepotism and favouritism in the ranks, but equally capable Templars from humble backgrounds such as his made it through too. He wanted to see Circles replaced but not at the expense of those he loved. Selfish perhaps, but things couldn’t have gone back to the way they were. He disagreed with the amount of freedom mages had been granted, but he trusted Leaena’s decision. Clearly, he didn’t have the same burning hatred that Vivienne couldn’t keep in check.

‘I came from less than nothing! I clawed up my way from the gutter, only to see a spoilt ice princess treat us all as less than the shit on her shoe!’ Vivienne was spitting, claws out for a woman who embodied all that she despised. ‘I had to fight for every privilege, every right! Leaena was just given them without so much as a ‘please may I’! The Circle was my chance for survival and a place in life and I was damned if I was having this jumped up bitch come in and treat us all as playthings. Her downfall proved my gain.  She couldn’t touch me once I reached Celene’s side but yet again the Maker felt it necessary to gift her with even more power. Once she was Inquisitor I wasn’t safe and I had to make plans. You know the rest, and here we are.’

‘Here we are indeed.’ Cullen wasn’t quite sure what to say to such a paranoid diatribe, except to appease. ‘It would appear you finally have the upper hand you needed.’

‘She thought she was so special, so precious. This gifted mage who had the gall to pass her Harrowing even younger than I did. Everything in my life has come hard, Cullen. Nothing in Leaena’s life has – she merely asks her family or you for it and there it is. Call me subversive? Leaena wrote the book on manipulation.’

Vivienne sat back, hooding her glare as she swallowed a gulp of water. It was apparent that she hadn’t meant to let such vitriol take over her conversation, let so much slip. The madness was there, the corrosive influence that had taken over her life just gleaming in the very depths. It was an outburst that told Cullen much.

‘Survival at all costs, Vivienne?’ he asked calmly, pushing aside his plate and watching her thoughtfully. ‘Every single action you have undertaken has been about that one thing. The higher up the ranks you rise, the more protected you are. Something happened to you when you were younger did it not? Either in the Circle or just before it, to make you this way?’

‘What way?’ Vivienne snapped, the truce between them over. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘You can’t travel with people for the length of time we have, and not pick up a few clues.’ Cullen shrugged, wanting to hide the surge of victory he felt just at getting under Vivienne’s skin. ‘Just trying to empathise. Underneath that polished surface, you had a rough time of it. I can understand that.’

_Don’t push it too much or she will get suspicious._

‘My background can be of little interest to you.’ Vivienne shut the conversation down once more, just as he’d suspected she would. ‘I don’t know why you’re trying out your Prince Charming routine but it’s wasted on me.’

Cullen knew that Vivienne would have him in her bed in an instant, but her pride refused to show it. Forcibly, he dismissed the unwelcome thought. The idea made him nauseous.

‘Very well then, wife. You head on upstairs while I wait in the taproom some more.’ Cullen had reached the limit of his tolerance, wanting to sift through the limited information she’d just revealed. ‘Don’t worry about saving space on the bed.’

Vivienne abruptly stood with a disgusted glare, tossing her hair over her shoulder and marching off upstairs. He’d left her little choice, given in these parts of rural Orlais peasant women were more beholden to their husbands than in the more liberal South. It was a small perk, but one he intended on using while he could.

Cullen had always known Vivienne’s hatred of Leaena was irrational, borne from a place of deep insecurity. For her part, Leaena had never elaborated on her time in the Circle, Cullen more than aware that she’d been beyond ruthless to deserve the singularly infamous title of Ice Princess, infamous across Circles in the south. Cullen was also aware of the abuse Leaena had suffered because of her background, a fact Vivienne conveniently chose to ignore.

Two women, equally talented mages, equally beautiful and equally vulnerable. Equally warped by life in the Circle, determined to establish themselves as a form of protection against the games played by both Chantry and Templars.

Leaena had freely admitted one night that the Inquisition had freed her from the power games of the Circle, giving her a Maker-sent chance at redemption. Whether she’d go so far as to acknowledge how her life could have turned out, Cullen would never know. He’d stopped the conversation. It was irrelevant, after all. Somehow they would have met and fallen in love, the rot that had claimed them both halted in its tracks. Of that he was certain.

Vivienne’s path had been set. There could be no redemption for her, only a lifetime of survival no matter how far she had to go. The price she’d paid had cost her, Vivienne now devoid of compassion and morality. Cullen knew all too well the lengths people would go to in order to live. Vivienne went one step further, believing power would lead to the security and recognition she craved. She’d very nearly succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for one woman.

Cullen finished his ale, reluctant to head upstairs and be in such close proximity to Vivienne. Instead he walked outside, preferring a nighttime stroll to the close confines of the bedroom. His mind was in turmoil, the information he’d learnt that evening jostling for thinking space.

A blanket of stars danced in the pitch black of the sky, Cullen pausing for a moment to enjoy the spectacular sight. This far north and in the middle of nowhere afforded him the perfect view, reminiscent of the desperate journey to bring a comatose Inquisitor back to the land of the living. He wandered past the stables, leaning up against the rail to stare blankly out at the dark fields, the stalks of wheat flowing in the breeze. The rumbling of voices from the inn had died away, with only the sighing of trees in the wind to be heard.

Unconsciously, Cullen reached for the signet rings hanging against his chest, twisting the chain till both sat in his palm. Bile was rising at the thought of the violence Vivienne had so casually decreed he’d carry out in her name. Looking at them both, one denoting his authority as Knight-Commander and the other his role as Commander of the Inquisition, the conflict within him continued to rage. It wasn’t just mages who found their new lives in the Inquisition radically transformed from their old lives in the Chantry. Even now, over two years in service to the Inquisition, he found it hard to shake off the bonds that tied him to his own form of servitude.

_Maleficar, I can’t idly stand by....can I? Be the man and not the Templar….._

_Damn it! That’s it!_

Cullen gasped aloud as awareness flooded him. The years of indoctrination and hatred, the torture of his past at Kinloch Hold – that was Vivienne’s latest tool of coercion. She was bargaining on his insecurities. She’d no doubt witnessed the nightmares when he did manage to sleep, the claws of the demon never leaving him no matter how much he fought against it. A demon he’d have been without if it wasn’t for the destruction and havoc blood mages had wrought on his own life.

Vivienne hadn’t accounted for, however, the depths of his determination to find a way to break the spell that held Leaena hostage. It didn’t matter how much he despised and feared blood magic. Cullen refused to kill anyone who might hold the answers to unravelling the spell that bound Leaena and Vivienne together. He’d survive another thousand Kinloch Holds if it meant he’d find the key to set Leaena free.

Once he had his answers, the lot of them could all go to the Void their own way as far as he cared, no matter the vows he’d sworn as a Templar.

He would not be manipulated any further, thanking the Maker for realising now what Vivienne’s intended plan had been for him in that regard. How he’d avoid her intent to murder the opposition Cullen wasn’t sure, but he at least had unravelled one of Vivienne’s plans. Watching the wheat rise and fall in time to the wind, he allowed his mind to drift to the other information he’d gleaned that evening.

_All in all, a successful night’s fishing._

_Now, to put this knowledge to good use._

There had been a clear chink in her armour when Vivienne spoke of her background. Cullen wasn’t sure yet how he could use her past to his advantage, but he was prepared to bide his time. That Vivienne had been on the receiving end of some form of devastating attack as a child was apparent. He refused to feel any sympathy for the woman. As an adult she’d made her choice, to achieve success at the cost of her humanity. He would use any tool given to him to push her further into revealing more. Anything that might give him the slightest edge in this, the most dangerous of dances.

He closed his eyes, sending a prayer to the Maker for Leaena’s continued safety. It was futile to hope she was cooped up at Skyhold still. The demands on the Inquisitor were many and the world didn’t simply stop turning because the two of them were apart. His stomach was hollow, his hands trembling as he slipped the rings onto their chain, securely nestled once more in their resting spot by his heart. Turning on his heel and putting his desolation to one side, Cullen became aware just how late it was. With any luck Vivienne would be sleeping by now, the night hour now far advanced.

Cullen didn’t even have the security of knowing they slept under the same blanket of stars any more. He was looking up at unfamiliar constellations he’d only ever seen in a book, never dreaming he’d leave southern Thedas for the dubious environs of the north. Feeling more alone than he’d ever felt in his life, he headed into the inn to prepare for a cold night on the armchair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series then I highly recommend it. My favourite series of all time. The idea of a spell connecting two women came from there, although I've altered completely how it works. But wanted to give the concept the appropriate credit! Plus Richard and Khalan <3 <3 <3


	11. Into the Deep

_Cullen,_

_I figured out a way to follow you without Vivienne and her minions keeping tabs on my every step. Even she would not have bargained for my trip into the Deep Roads. Have you ever been? I wouldn’t advise it. I’m just adding this forced trip to the list of things that fucking whore will be made to pay for once I catch up to her._

_We’ve been travelling for two weeks now, and Maker I never thought I would miss the sight of rain and drizzle and fog so much. It’s a permanent darkness. Even though my eyes have adjusted somewhat and we have magelight, it’s a poor substitute. Our rations are low, despite the supply lines we set up at every waypoint. My teeth hurt from chewing jerky so often and if I never see another cracker again it will be too soon. I find myself fantasising about a nice roast dinner, trimmings and all. When we get to our cottage in Ostwick, once all the bullshit is over, we'll spend our time cooking each other's favourites. If you trust me near a stove, that is._

_Alistair being here has been a blessing beyond words. We’re able to dodge most of the packs of darkspawn thanks to his guidance, speeding up our travel threefold, Andraste be praised. The darkspawn have faded away though, so I’m suspicious as to what lies ahead. I’ve heard enough of Varric’s doom scenarios since we started on this blasted journey to be convinced that this is merely the quiet before the storm._

_Every step I take though, no matter how small, brings me closer to you. I would fight my way through every darkspawn alive if it means I get to see you once more. I miss you so much, Cullen. Your laugh, your smile, your kisses, the strength of your arms as you hold me close. I am out of my depth here in this foreign landscape. Only the knowledge that I will be reunited with you soon keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. ~~There is no alternative. I WILL see you again.~~_

_Take good care, my love. I hope you’re getting enough rest and you’re able to hold the lyrium demons at bay. ~~I know you’ve taken lyrium again, I can’t think straight about that horrendous subject. One thing at a time.~~ Vivienne is a fool if she thinks to coerce you through that liquid poison. I believe in you, Cullen. Soon, the nightmare will be over. I promise._

_L_


	12. A Blight Unbearable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I thought I'd let you know there is a [Cullen Appreciation Week](https://cullenappreciationweek.tumblr.com) on Tumblr from Sept 4-10, and if you have an account do come along and check it out! I am also one of the [mods](https://daisytje.tumblr.com) for the week which I'm really excited about. If you've got questions just drop me or the other mods an ask. 
> 
> Enjoy the next chapter :)

The steady drip drip of water echoed around the damp chamber, boring a hole in Lea’s brain. To say she was fed up was an understatement of the Age. She’d developed a permanent headache from squinting into the dark for the last three weeks, her muscles ached from sleeping on a stony cold floor every night and, to top it off, the memory of the darkspawn call made her want to vomit every time she found herself confronted by the monsters. It was a permanent reminder of the price she was now paying for her arrogance and idiotic mistakes.

‘Some penance,’ Lea muttered to herself, her pack and staff crashing to the floor as she wriggled her shoulders with relief. ‘Maker, when will this end?’

‘What, bored of the splendid holiday already, dear Inquisitor?’ Dorian’s sarcastic observation matched Lea’s pissed-off mood. ‘We’ve made new friends, met some lovely darkspawn and my boots have turned the colour of sludge. All in all, a successful endeavour wouldn’t you say?’

‘None of us want to be here,’ Cadan admonished them both, ‘but why don’t we remind ourselves what the alternative would be?’

Lea sighed in resignation, knowing Cadan was right. Pointless whining did nothing but drag down the whole group. She could give up and go back to Skyhold or she could lose Cullen. Put in those terms, there wasn’t even a competition.

She stalked over to the offending dribble of water, eyeing it critically as a stream of ice appeared in its place. Satisfied that she’d at least removed one source of annoyance, she fervently wished everything else could be so easily resolved.

_A leader? Really? I’m up shit creek with no paddle, people dying left right and centre as a result._

_It’s only a matter of time before someone calls me out for the fraudulent imposter I am._

‘Come here, Frosty,’ Varric gestured to the brazier in the middle of their camping spot. ‘Wave those hands of yours and give us some warmth. You’ll feel better with sunshine and a hot drink inside you.’

‘Let me go and relieve Alistair of watch duty. Heat this flask up for me, Lea.’ As Lea waved her hand distractedly, Cadan clasped her shoulder in quiet understanding of her frustrations before disappearing into the gloom.

It was a grave trio gathered around the fire. Alistair had yet to return from his stint on watch, leaving herself, Dorian and Varric to prepare what meagre rations were still available for dinner. They’d left Valta behind in the titan only two days ago, Lieutenant Renn’s death still too fresh in everyone’s thoughts. To lose both the Legion of the Dead veteran and the Shaper to forces they didn’t understand remained a struggle for Lea to come to terms with.

_But I had to make a sacrifice…._

_Didn’t I?_

‘Not that there was any choice in the matter – why are you looking at me like that?’

‘You’re talking to yourself again. Don’t glower at me, Lea. We’re here to make sure you survive this madcap idea of a journey, not be driven insane once more.’ Dorian was unapologetic about his scrutiny of her behaviour. ‘So what’s on your mind?’

Lea folded her legs underneath her, staring into flames sparking upwards from her magic. It was a welcome respite from the pitch black they’d been plunged into after leaving the titan. She was so tired, sitting upright requiring her full concentration. Shaking her hair free from its tight plait Lea almost hissed with relief, desperate to alleviate some of the pressure in her head.

‘Too much has happened in too short a space of time. Cullen takes priority, he always will, but what falls down the wayside as a result?’ Lea shrugged, fighting against the relentless guilt. ‘It’s impossible for me to prioritise. I was never cut out for this Inquisitor business.’

‘No regrets.’ Alistair’s deep voice came from behind her, cutting into her self-pitying ramble. ‘Leaders make tough calls every day that affect so many lives. Either you stay true to your principles or you get eaten alive by the neverending conflict. I think you’re aware which one is, ultimately, the better option.’

He shed his heavy plate armour and settled down with a grunt of exhaustion. Out of all of them, this mission had perhaps been the most challenging for Alistair. Not because he wasn’t in peak physical condition – despite the decade that had passed since he swapped the Grey Wardens for the crown, he’d remained ready for combat at any given moment. Something more fundamental affected him, Lea making a mental note to get to the bottom of the problem at the first available opportunity, before he self-combusted in a mixture of temper and despair.

‘I know, I know. Down here in the depths of nowhere with lyrium and rock the only distraction, introspection comes too easily.’ For Lea, the constant reminder of Cullen’s fall back into lyrium addiction had been the worst. ‘If anything, I’ve been left with more questions than answers. How can anyone make decisions when we’re talking myth and legend?’

For that was what they’d stumbled up on in their torturous journey into the pit of the earth. They’d been greeted with dazzling caverns filled with lyrium stalactites and stalagmites, rivers and lakes of sparkling blue as far as the eye could see. To experience the purity of lyrium had taken Lea’s breath away, just at the same time as she cried inside for the torment Cullen surely had to be enduring because of the mineral’s magic.

The majesty of the lyrium cavern, however, was as nothing compared to what followed.

‘Yeah, a living, breathing titan. Complete with nutty dwarven army. Who’d have thought things could get any weirder?’ Varric poked at the fire irritably with a dagger before picking up a whetstone to sharpen its edge. ‘As if fucking darkspawn weren’t enough to contend with.’

‘We have some valuable information,’ Lea replied slowly, her gaze caught by the reflection of flames on Varric’s blade. ‘Not that I truly understand it.’

‘At what cost? We lost Renn, a good man. Now Valta got sucked into some other voodoo singing crap, convinced the Stone is talking to her. Makes me glad to be a Surface dwarf. I don’t have to buy into any of that garbage.’ Varric too was battling his own demons, which he refused to elaborate on.  ‘Fuck’s sake, when is this over?’

‘Look on the bright side. You haven’t burnt lyrium onto your skin to create superhuman armour. Plus, you don’t use magic.’ Dorian shook his head in amazement. “You think you’ve seen it all, then a dwarf blasts you with a bucketload of the blasted stuff.’

‘I’ve seen enough crazy shit to last me a lifetime. Dwarves using magic was a step too far for me to cope with.’

They were silent, still processing the shock of Valta’s magic use. Dwarves didn’t use magic. That was an accepted fact. Yet everyone had witnessed Valta’s wielding of a power which by rights should never have been. Lea’s head hurt thinking of the potential implications.

‘The Sha-Brytol were somehow ‘pure’, like her – the titan wouldn’t have spoken to her otherwise. Maker, what if dwarves used to have magic but it was cut off?’ Alistair voiced what Lea had been silently questioning ever since they’d turned and left Valta to her fate. ‘Valta said there was almost no mention of the titans in the Memories.’

‘Like Templars, the Sha-Brytol drink lyrium. The blood of the titans. The song which Valta speaks of must be different to that of the Old Gods.’ The implications were staggering, Lea sensing they were barely scratching the surface. ‘Urgh, pointless speculation. All those lyrium-inscribed works must have more information. We shall see what the Inquisition exploration uncovers.’

There was a heavy pause, Lea looking sharply across at Alistair. She’d requested that a team of engineers from the Storm Coast be sent down to explore the titan further, not wishing to leave anything to chance.

_And if there’s anything which might help Cullen…._

It was a forlorn hope, that nosing around a titan could reveal a clue to help combat the horrors of lyrium addiction. Her magic had sung to the lyrium nonstop since their arrival in the titan, drawn helplessly to the abundance surrounding her no matter which way she turned. Her heart bled to think of Cullen, lost to lyrium’s siren call for the rest of his life.

No matter how small the chance, she had to try every avenue to help him break free, hence the speedy requisition of the Inquisition’s expedition team. Another example of her prioritising Cullen’s safety above all else. Any further information which was retrieved, to help an entire race, was to her merely a side benefit.

Given everyone’s reaction, her latest frantic attempt to regain a semblance of control must have gone awry.

‘We had a runner from the last waypoint. There’s a report for you from Josie but the long and short of it is that the expedition couldn’t get back into the Wellspring. There was no opening and no amount of chiselling and hammering made a dent in the rock.’

Alistair’s statement left Lea blinking in astonishment, her hand shaking as she reached for Josephine’s missive.

‘What do you mean, that we dreamt the whole fucking thing up?’ Lea rapidly read the brief note before passing it to Varric. ‘How does a hole in the wall suddenly disappear?’

‘Is there any magic capable of replicating solid rock so thoroughly?’ Dorian mused, his eyes alight at the potential. ‘This, along with the Sha-Brytol, could be the discovery of a lifetime.’

The idea of spending more time in the bowels of the earth was enough to give Lea immediate claustrophobia. Putting the astounding news to one side, she focussed back on finding Cullen. ‘Forgive me if I don’t want to join you on any further archaeological expeditions. Let Josephine sort it out with Bhelen – there must be some artefacts around that will give further clues which we can piece together once we’re back at Skyhold. I’ve had my fill of this place, and then some. In fact, how soon till we can be out of here?’

Varric reached into his pack to retrieve an ancient parchment, so thin Lea was convinced every time he opened it out would be its last. Barely held together, the myriad lines on the paper were just visible in the orange glow from the fire. He gradually rolled out the sheet, one finger tracing the ancient, faded routes.

‘Here, let me.’ A pale globe of light appeared above Varric’s head courtesy of a flourish from Dorian. ‘Where did you find such a treasure map anyway?’

‘Back when Bartrand and I were mounting that cursed expedition. We secured a number of different maps linking the various thaigs.’ Varric wiped a weary hand over his eyes, his expression darkening at nightmares still not forgotten. ‘Cost a pretty penny too. Lucky for you that it’s in my possession. There are plenty of maps showing Orzamaar and Kal-Sharok, but this is the only one which links the two kingdoms together.’

‘We’ve saved time by travelling through the titan. An amazing amount of time, actually.’ Alistair frowned slightly as he examined the intricate but convoluted network of a long-gone empire. ‘If this is accurate, we should arrive at Kal-Sharok in a matter of days. Two at most, tomorrow if we are lucky. I’m not too worried about this stretch of the journey, Lea. It’s what we will face at the end which concerns me.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lea queried, her elation at catching up to Vivienne and Cullen firmly quashed by Alistair’s lack of enthusiasm. ‘I know little of the former dwarven empire save what was held in Chantry books. But they’re still dwarves, yes?’

Dorian’s bark of harsh laughter didn’t reassure her. ‘Dearest girl, you’re in Tevinter now. Nothing about this place is ever straightforward. Think. What did your dusty tomes tell you in the Circle?’

‘Fucking hell, I was no dwarven scholar! Give me a break.’ Lea winced at her snapping tone, well aware how frayed everyone’s tempers had become courtesy of their lengthy sojourn underground. ‘Sorry, sorry. I need a drink and a bath. Who’d have thought the Western Approach would hold such appeal as a tourist destination?’

She was grateful to the rest of the group for not pointing out the obvious. After all, she’d been the one with the bright idea to traipse through some of the most inhospitable and dangerous terrain in Thedas.

‘Don’t worry, I understand. Here.’ Dorian threw her a silver hipflask. ‘The last of my supply. I’m happy to donate it to a worthy cause.’

Gratefully Lea swigged a mouthful of brandy, her own private stash of whiskey having long been drained. She felt its lack, hating how she was missing the oblivion of alcohol to distract her from far darker thoughts. In such close company she’d had no privacy to truly let go, to give way to the voices demanding to be heard. They were the same voices that had whipped her on as a Circle mage promising annihilation if she didn’t succeed at any cost. In her red lyrium madness, the whisper became a sonic boom when merged with the darkspawn song, spurring her onto delusional heights of insanity that could have fractured the universe had she not come to her senses in time.

Before Cullen, she’d found ways to distract herself when the tortured anguish twisting inside her became too much. Pain was catharsis to her, from twisting her hair till her eyes watered down to cutting her forearms open with magic-sharpened nails. If it hadn’t been for agony’s bittersweet embrace in Samson’s lair, she’d have died, her mind lost. Lea had an awful lot to thank pain for. 

_He made everything different._

_He freed me._

When she met Cullen, the voices howled in their anger as they were firmly muted, the delicious warmth of his being insulating her from the screaming in her soul. Yet, although he’d born witness to her ultimate humiliation at the hands of Samson and his thugs, he’d never truly been aware of Lea’s internal struggle. It had never been an issue. Cullen banished the ghosts in her head with ease. Besides, pain was only an emergency tool she used, to focus her mind when her emotions spun out of control. She’d used such tricks infrequently in the Circle, yet since recovering from her injuries at the Shrine of Dumat the return of her old enemy had ignited an internal battle she was in danger of losing.

Dorian knew, of course. He’d been watching her, Lea had felt it, looking for a sign that she’d crack. He’d not raised the subject since he’d found her, bleeding and broken on the Inquisitor’s balcony while Cullen was fighting for his life. Lea knew, however, that she was living on borrowed time, resentful of her dear friend for trying to take away the one failsafe method she had at her disposal to maintain her sanity. She loved him too, for wanting to try and save her, for not mentioning her weakness to Cullen, and for trying to protect her from herself.

_If Dorian discovered how I spend my time asleep, there’d be trouble. Hounded by a desire demon in the Fade, one who’s obsessed with making a deal with me to see Cullen return._

_Maker save me, sometimes I’m so close to agreeing._

Lea was, truth be told, shit scared.

She was hundreds of feet underground, with Cullen stuck somewhere only the Maker knew, both up against a threat that had never been more acute, or amorphous. The relentless waves of darkspawn had, in a way, helped her, Lea welcoming the continual fighting and numbing exhaustion that prevented her brain from launching into overdrive. Since they’d departed Skyhold she’d barely spoken, locking herself away from the group so they wouldn’t witness how unstable her reality was becoming. Then it had been a rapid descent into the underbelly of Thedas, travelling in a close-knit group that allowed for no privacy. She desperately wanted to let go, to have the space to cope in the only way she knew how. With that denied her, Lea had instead dawn in on herself, corrosive thoughts chasing around her head at a rate of knots.

It was irrelevant anyway. All of it. If she didn’t reach Cullen soon, something very bad would happen. The memory of lyrium about to splash across his lips, into his mouth and down his throat was enough to force the crushing paranoia aside and focus on the matter at hand.

_I promised to never leave him._

_And yet here we are, apart. Again. His life at risk, because of me. Because of my stupid pride._

With a shake of her head as the alcohol hit her throat, Lea tossed the flask back to Dorian. If she revealed even a hint of her internal hysteria it would mark the beginning of the end. Her beloved friends could never guess how close to the knife-edge of madness she danced.

‘Orzamaar and Kal-Sharok. Orzamaar left the dwarves in Kal-Sharok for dead after the First Blight in -40 Ancient. Even though the Blight was over, the dwarven empire was overrun with darkspawn and High King Threestone declared the former capital lost.’ Lea gathered her wits together and recited the text from memory, the bare facts learnt for a history exam she’d had to take in the Circle as an apprentice. ‘Kal-Sharok was rediscovered in 9:12 Dragon. Their survival is a mystery, as is why it took so long to rediscover their brethren given the Kal-Sharok dwarves maintained trade with the Tevinter Empire during this period. And that’s the sum total of my knowledge, except this could be the one route to get me to Cullen as fast as possible.’

‘Well done, Inquisitor. A plus for regurgitating a textbook, D minus for demonstrating an astonishing lack of critical thinking.’ Dorian raised his flask to her in a mock salute. ‘But I’ll forgive you your ignorance this once. You’ve other things on your mind after all.’

‘Don’t ever take on an apprentice if that’s the level of encouragement you’ll give the poor soul.’ Lea flipped Dorian her middle finger, the rumble of laughter from both Varric and Alistair adding a much-needed lighthearted note to the conversation. ‘So why don’t you enlighten me, oh great one?’

‘They fought darkspawn to the death. Cut off from other help.’ Alistair’s low voice recounted a dark history known to only a few. ‘They were nearly wiped out, desperate, abandoned by those they thought they could count on. Left for dead. But survive they did, in the face of insurmountable odds. To go through that, though – a perceived betrayal and nearly a thousand years apart from your fellows? That surely triggers a level of adaptation I can’t quantify. When you are that close to darkspawn for so long – it changes you.’  

‘What did they do to survive? I’m not sure I want to know.’ Varric smoothed his finger over the marker on the map denoting the former capital of the dwarven kingdom. ‘My traders don’t reach this far into Tevinter, so I’ve never done business with them. They are physically different from Orzamaar dwarves and that the supposed ‘rediscovery’ could be a crock of shit given how long they’ve traded with Minrathous. Don’t expect the Inquisition cosying up to Bhelen will impress them either. They hate Orzammar.’

‘Well wouldn’t you, if you were left to wade through seemingly neverending darkspawn while others fucked off to save their own hides?’

Dorian took a last sip, staring sorrowfully at the now-empty flask. Lea silently reminded herself to keep an eye on her fellow mage. She wasn’t the only one finding alternative methods of battling her innermost self. He’d not uttered a word about his breakup with Bull, but the lack of a dragon-tooth necklace round his neck highlighted the permanency of that decision. For a man who had courageously fought for the right to live his life the way he chose, it was a blow to see him laid so low.

‘They have been tainted somehow, although not perhaps as Wardens are,’ Alistair continued. ‘How, we don’t know. Whether they adopted some form of ritual similar to the Wardens, or whether they became infected through sustained wounds…. No one can say. It might not even be to do with the Blight, although I find that difficult to believe. We must proceed with extreme caution.’

‘I have no interest in how they choose to live their lives.’ The last thing Lea wanted to get involved with was dwarven politics. ‘I only need to use their route to the surface.’

‘They view outsiders with suspicion,’ Dorian cautioned. ‘The only reason they continue to trade with Tevinter is because lyrium is such good business for the dwarves. Be mindful that the reception we may receive won’t be the warmest.’

‘That’s alright. We’ll send Varric first. Dwarf to dwarf. You’ll love it.’ Alistair’s grin was met with a curse from the dwarf in question. ‘What? It’s a foolproof plan. What could go wrong!’

‘How you managed to survive a Blight is beyond me, let alone defeat an archdemon and run a kingdom.’ Varric carefully rolled the map back up and placed it in his pack. ‘You aren’t wrong, Frosty. Beer and bath. In that order, before one of us commits murder. Fortunately, we’re only two or three days away from escaping this hellhole.’

‘I can’t wait to return to my enlightened homeland. Then, let me see…’ Dorian calculated the distance. ‘From what I recall, Kal-Sharok is a day’s travel from Minrathous. We can secure mounts on the surface from the traders who gather at the entrance, similar to Orzamaar. Then it’s straight to House Amladaris for you, and the delights of Irian’s famed hospitality.’

‘That had better not be sarcasm I’m hearing,’ Varric warned with a growl. ‘Andraste’s holy tits, I do not want to get caught up in Tevinter power plays. We’re there to get Cullen and get the fuck out again.’

‘The Inquisitor – the same one who slew Corypheus – sets foot in Tevinter for the first time alongside the King of Ferelden, slaying darkspawn hordes and uncovering a living titan and you expect to sneak in quietly through the back door?’ Dorian gave a dry chuckle. ‘You know better than that, old friend.’

‘No one will look beyond another Grey Warden warrior. You must be joking if you think I’m going to sit around doing the pretty with a bunch of treacherous magisters peddling their….dark arts.’ Alistair was aghast, the others stifling their laughs at his evident discomposure. ‘I’d rather remain down here cuddling darkspawn.’

‘Fereldens stick out like a sore thumb at the best of times. A Ferelden Grey Warden, and a fine, strapping one at that.’ Dorian gave Alistair a knowing grin. ‘Remind me, how many Grey Wardens are left in your country?’

‘He’s got a valid point. I cannot hide my hand and you’re too famous to be inconspicuous.’ Lea couldn’t think of anything worse than playing the political game either, but the seeds of an idea began to formulate. ‘We’ll be the distraction alongside Dorian, leaving Varric and Cadan to search behind the scenes. Let the fools roll out the red carpet, we’ll turn that pomp and ceremony to our advantage. People will be too busy fawning over us to pay attention to them.’

‘Maker’s Breath,’ Alistair groaned, hanging his head in defeat. ‘Why do they get the fun jobs? And how in Andraste’s name am I supposed to explain an unscheduled visit to one of Thedas’ most notorious nations? Without all the usual fanfare and all that entourage nonsense?’

‘You’re a king. Make it up.’ Varric gestured grandly, finishing with a bow in Alistair’s direction. ‘You’ve received intelligence on the Blight which required you to meet the Archon in person to discuss it further. So confidential is this new information you felt it necessary to travel incognito and deliver the news to him in person, the Inquisitor offering to provide you with a personal escort to ensure the safety of your royal person. See? That wasn’t so hard.’

‘And what do I say to Archon Radonis when I’m face to face with him?’ Alistair asked, his face glum as he resigned himself to several weeks of ostentatious state events. ‘You’d better get to writing a convincing script quickly, Varric, so I can learn it off by heart.’

‘I will.’ Varric flashed Alistair a smirk. ‘I’ve got it figured out, don’t you worry. All that’s left to do is get out of here and find a quill.’

‘Radonis is a cat lover, of all things.’ Dorian said thoughtfully. ‘Work that into your story, Varric. How much Alistair adores feline creatures.’

‘My day keeps getting better. Cats make me sneeze. Their fur gets under my collar and I develop a rash. They find a way to sneak into my quarters and sleep on my bed, shedding their nasty hairs everywhere. I swear the wretched animals do it out of spite in return for those years of having a Mabari in the palace.’ Alistair now looked thoroughly disgruntled. ‘Are you sure I have to do this, Lea?’

‘Unfortunately yes.’ Lea laughed, nudging him in the ribs. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll be there to hold your hand. We’ll stage manage everything to our purposes. The time for hiding away has passed, although we need to ensure we’re circumspect for the first week or so at least while we get the lay of the land – she and Cullen cannot be far away. I imagine putting on quite the power display will disgruntle Vivienne no end. You can be my bait, Your Majesty.’

‘What a privilege….wait a minute. It does occur to me that we might want to give this a bit more discussion. You know, the whole rescuing Cullen from a mage who’s most certainly unhinged from the reversal of the Rite thing.’ Alistair touched on the one subject Lea had been hoping to ignore. ‘What is the plan, Lea?’

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against her raised knees. Lea had no answers, even though she’d been racking her brains the entire trip. The point that eluded her was Cullen’s reason for leaving. She trusted him, knew that he wouldn’t have been separated again from her unless he had a very good reason to do so. What she couldn’t fathom was his rationale for turning to lyrium, not when he’d been so firmly on the road to recovery.

‘I don’t have one, aside from drawing her out somehow. In my urgency, I ran from Skyhold before thinking. I…. get stuck on the sight of lyrium pouring down Cullen’s throat. Why did he take that poison? We were so close to this being over….he’d coped so well in his fight to be free of that fucking corruptive stuff.’ Her tears threatened to rise. ‘Once an addict, always an addict? Is it that what it boils down to?’

‘He wants to protect you.’ Alistair was gentle, putting an arm round her shaking shoulders. ‘Taking lyrium – he wouldn’t have done so unless he truly believed there was no other alternative.’

‘Alistair’s right.’ Dorian lost his usual sardonic mask. ‘The threat to you was so severe he felt it warranted imbibing lyrium once more. We’ve been over this point a thousand times, Lea. Don’t let it distract you from our true purpose, or Vivienne’s.’

‘Sparker’s got it,’ Varric added. ‘She wants you to get distracted by this. Don’t let her win. We’ll deal with Curly’s lyrium issue once we get him back. When Cadan returns, we’ll come up with a course of action that will enable us to access both the highest and lowest echelons of Minrathous. We’ll smoke her out with bait she can’t resist. But right now, we need to focus on whatever hold it is she has over Curly. Once we nail that, we can figure out how to beat her. What is the danger to you, Inquisitor? What power does she have over you, and by default, Curly?’

Lea took a steadying breath, leaning into Alistair’s warmth and resting her head on his shoulder. As she’d done before, she drew strength from the presence of her dear friend. She forced herself to focus on Varric’s statement, dealing with the issue at hand rather than the nebulous threat lyrium posed to her happy ever after. This was a conversation they’d had so frequently it dominated any other, the entire group drawing a blank.

‘Vivienne wants power and security. She’s also mentally unstable after undertaking the Rite reversal.’ Dorian ticked off the points they were sure of on his fingers. ‘We also know she will want her revenge on Lea. The only safe place for her to head is Tevinter, where she could do with a Templar to wreak havoc. She coerces Cullen into leaving Lea, presenting him with an argument that compelling he feels he has no choice, not only to join her, but to take lyrium as a result. He departs voluntarily and, as a warning to us doesn’t want to be followed, leaving no trace of his departure.’

He paused, lost in thought. ‘She’s a southern Circle mage. She has no real knowledge of the reality for mages in Tevinter. We need to think on the tactics she’d employ to control mages under the old power dynamic of Templars and Circles.’

Varric sat up abruptly at Dorian’s statement, blinking as if seeing the fire for the first time. ‘Phylacteries. That’s how Templars control mages. Not in Tevinter, of course. Blood magic’s par for the course.’

‘True,’ Dorian acknowledged. ‘Behind closed doors, you understand. But magisters have to find an edge over one another somehow. We view blood magic somewhat differently to the rest of Thedas.’ 

‘I see where you’re going but it’s out of the question.’ Lea had seen the evidence with her own eyes. ‘Cullen found my phylactery in the Storm Coast and destroyed it. I was there. I watched him dispel the wards and pour the blood into the Waking Sea, smashing the glass against a rock.’

Varric looked at her questioningly. ‘At the risk of sounding like an idiot, are you sure? Wait, hear me out.’ He held up his hand to forestall her automatic denial. ‘Do they suck the blood from you on more than one occasion? I mean, you can have more than one phylactery, right?’

‘Yes, theoretically. They draw the blood within the first hour you arrive at the Circle. I think I’d remember it happening again.’

Lea sounded far more confident than she felt. She couldn’t ignore Varric’s innate ability to ferret out obscure clues. Tendrils of icy fear snaked through her veins, the nausea rising at the suggestion she’d been violated without even being aware of the act taking place.

‘The logical conclusion is that Vivienne has somehow cast a spell over you, one that threatens your life.’ Alistair mused out loud. ‘I hadn’t considered blood magic before, however. Would she stoop to that to cause you harm?’

‘She was always adamant against its use.’ A firm rejection, even as her mind started screaming in warning. ‘She says it is for the feeble, for those who don’t have enough magic of their own to gain the upper hand.’

How easy it was to regurgitate the venom of her former mentor. Lea was transported back to a moment in time over a decade ago, a wide-eyed, impressionable mage fresh from her Harrowing. Vivienne was in her prime, a powerful, stunningly beautiful mage with the Circles of southern Thedas at her beck and call. Lea had lapped it up at the feet of the Senior Enchanter, hanging onto every word. If Vivienne poured disdainful scorn onto those who practiced blood magic, then who was Lea to argue?  

‘Darling,’ Lea mimicked, the words rising unbidden. ‘Blood magic is a tool for the weak. Pitiful fools are the only ones who would stoop so low. Pathetic excuses for mages, and unworthy of my consideration.’

‘I can just hear her saying something along those lines,’ Dorian murmured. ‘Easy enough to be so disparaging, when you’re in the position of power. A position she is no longer in, and a high likelihood she’s struggling with the Rite reversal. Trying to be scornful when you’re the one at the bottom of the pile isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.’

‘The Vivienne we’re dealing with now is not the same one we faced down in the Winter Palace.’ Varric nodded his agreement to Dorian’s observation. ‘She’s cornered and desperate, although she’ll be presenting herself from a position of strength given how she spirited Curly away. Don’t be deluded by that. She’s going to use anything to fight you.’

In the end, Corypheus had been so straightforward Lea almost missed him as an adversary, a larger than life target with his weaknesses exposed for the Inquisition to take full advantage of. Vivienne was the opposite, having achieved the unthinkable by reversing the Rite of Tranquility and spiriting off with her husband to be. How, Lea had yet to establish. Her brain had run dry of ideas. Still, Lea was struggling to reconcile the Vivienne who, for her multitude of faults, had always rejected blood magic and its associated evils out of hand.

‘I know you have your own outlook on this, Dorian.’ The differences between Tevinter and southern Thedas’ mages were so fundamental she often wondered if there would be common ground. ‘We are products of the Chantry. Blood magic is abhorrent to the vast majority of mages. The ones that decided to rebel against even that basic precept were not part of the mage rebellion. They became apostates and maleficar, roaming the country, killing themselves more often than not because they were toying with a school of magic they didn’t understand. Vivienne is a true child of the Chantry in that regard. She’d no sooner use blood magic than cut off her arm.’

‘You can’t swear to it, though, can you?’ Dorian eyed her shrewdly. ‘Varric may have it. The fastest way to get Cullen to drop everything and run is because some kind of blood magic ritual is involved, with you at the centre. Was there ever an occasion when you were so weakened, she could take advantage of you?’

_Give her a solid slap, Ser Velen…that’s the last strap in place. Still, the bitch is wiggling around too much, despite the bonds….._

_Maker take it, what do you expect me to do? She’s far stronger that she looks, for all that she’s a slip of a thing._

_I don’t care how you do it, Knight-Captain. Hold those arms steady, or I will see to it that you spend the rest of your days in a swamp-ridden backwater minding nugs! And you, Knight-Lieutenant, if you cause her to break her neck, I’ll make you rue the day you were born….._

‘Montsimmard, of course.’ Breathing was almost impossible for Lea, what with the sensation of gauntleted hands choking her throat, unable to escape bonds that were cutting into her skin. ‘I was in so much pain by the time they laid me on the block, I wouldn’t have known whether I was lanced or not. Ugh it hurt…so much…’

‘Deep breaths, Lea. Focus, in, out, in, out…..that’s it. You’re with us. Safe. There’s nothing to fear.’

The clamour from the memories, demanding her submission, slowly dissipated as she fought to focus on Alistair’s instructions. His hand gently stroked circles on her back to help return her to reality, Lea taking time to readjust. The walls of Montsimmard’s Harrowing chamber and the hands imprisoning her arms, neck and legs eventually gave way to the calming reassurance of Alistair’s touch.

She lifted her head and reengaged with the concerned faces around her, offering a shaky smile.

‘I’m alright. I’m tired, but ok. I’m sorry for worrying you. But I still can’t comprehend the idea of a second phylactery.’

‘We don’t have to talk about it any more, Frosty. Now we’re clear of the titan, we’ve come up with a viable scenario, for both our appearance in Tevinter and for Vivienne’s motivations. We’ll examine the latter in more detail once we’re outside.’ Varric nodded, satisfied with the headway they’d made. ‘But that’s enough for now. Nothing’s going to change while we’re stuck six feet under.’

‘Agreed. This is a conversation we’ve been having for weeks and, we’ll deal with it tomorrow.’ Alistair let his hands fall, passing her some water. ‘Drink this and get to bed.’

‘It’s my turn to stand watch,’ she argued weakly, while the others shook their heads in disagreement. ‘Don’t, please. I need to pull my weight. We’re all struggling.’

‘Lea, let us cover you for tonight.’ Alistair brooked no argument as he lifted her to her feet, guiding her to the limp cloth passing as protection from the solid ground. ‘Sleep as much as you can.’

‘Yes, sleep,’ Dorian ordered, Lea uncomfortably aware that it had been his slight gesture to the others which had prompted an end to the conversation. ‘The darkspawn have left us alone for the most part on this side of the titan. If that continues the closer we approach the thaig, then there’s plenty of time for us to discuss this on the move.’

‘When did my life become controlled by a bunch of mother hens,’ she grumbled but relented, using the remainder of her energy to stumble over to her bedroll.

The flashback had sapped her strength, an aching void in her chest where her emotions usually resided. Lea flinched against the solid cold of the stone floor as she lay down, resting her head on her pack. Her eyes closed involuntarily, Lea weary to the bone thanks to the ever-present terror bought on by Cullen’s disappearance.

His beautiful face appeared before her closed lids, Lea mentally tracing the outline of his firm jaw, running imaginary fingers over the softness of his lips. The ache in the centre of her chest intensified, silent tears trickling down her cheeks as she continued her exploration. She allowed herself to let go, for one precious second. Her mind remembered the slight coarseness of his hair under her fingertips, teasing an unruly strand. Her body yearned for the heat of his breath against her ear when he kissed her neck, whispering sweet promises of love and devotion. Her soul recalled the perfect union of two spirits that were destined to be together, forever.

In the midst of losing herself to her imagination, fatigue caught up with her. Within moments Lea was asleep, a twisted smile of longing and loneliness, and the wetness of her pack the only outward indication of her abiding pain.

\-------

Blissful oblivion was not to last, of course. After a fitful couple of hours tossing and turning on solid rock, Lea awoke with a groan. Disoriented in that split second between awareness and asleep, she mindlessly reached out for Cullen’s warmth, recoiling in confusion when her fingers felt nothing but hardened leather.

‘You’re one of my oldest friends, Lea, but I’d advise you don’t let your hands stray any further. I could do without castration by Cullen should he ever find out you’d been fondling my nether regions.’

Alistair’s amused voice broke into her sleep-induced fog, Lea’s eyes flying open in consternation.

‘What? I wasn’t…oh!’ Her hand was very firmly planted on Alistair’s ass, Lea whipping it away with a furious blush. ‘Stop laughing at me, you dreadful man! What the fuck are you doing so close to my bedroll anyway?’

‘Keeping an eye on you.’ He shrugged, the burst of humour fading as reality asserted itself. ‘Not that I can sleep anyway.’

Lea scrambled upright, rubbing her eyes as she awoke fully. Settling cross-legged on her mat next to him, she gulped down some water and tried her best to relax, watching Alistair with concern.

It was only the two of them, the campfire’s flames enhancing the dark shadows in his eyes. The expedition had been a battle for him in ways she couldn’t even begin to understand, a harshness appearing underneath his usual relaxed demeanour the further they wound their way through the depths of Thedas.

‘Do you want to talk about it? If the others don’t make a miraculous return in the next half hour, that is.’

She had no idea where the rest of her companions had disappeared to, but found herself relieved to have a brief respite. They’d been travelling in such close quarters for so long tempers were fraying. She and Cadan had reverted back to childhood, fighting like cat and dog. Or like brother and sister, and she knew the rest were heartily sick of their petty squabbling. Varric had sunk into a morose caricature of his former self, refusing to speak to anyone or anything beyond the bare necessity of communication, while Dorian rivalled Alistair in sarcasm, the pair of them frequently straying well beyond the lines of common courtesy.

For now, however, she had a chance to breathe and take stock of the madcap dash they’d found themselves thrust in. Lea pushed aside the alarming disquiet sitting in the centre of her stomach since the last discussion. Her own paranoia and Fade-induced debates with the demon, Montsimmard, Vivienne and blood magic rituals with her smack bang in the centre were problems she’d deal with later.

She wasn’t the Inquisitor right now, or someone’s annoying twin sister. She was Lea, desperately wishing there was a better way she could help her friend. After everything Alistair had done for her, the least she could do was return the favour by lending a listening ear.

‘Cadan and Varric have gone to scout out the next pass ahead. Dorian’s on watch.’ He stopped, his expression faraway. ‘No darkspawn are in the vicinity and traces of their activity are decades old. They seem to have abandoned this particular route to Kal-Sharok. We actually might be closer than we realise.’

‘We are nearly there. I feel so woefully unprepared to don the mantle of Inquisitor and drink tea with nobles after what we’ve faced down in this infernal blackness. But,’ she focused her gaze firmly on him. ‘That doesn’t answer my question. Do you want to talk about it? I think you need to. You’ve not been yourself, Alistair.’

‘Perceptive as ever, Inquisitor. What did you expect, when you coerced a retired Warden to join you on a jolly down the Deep Roads. No.’ Alistair winced at his harsh tone. ‘I’m sorry. That was unworthy of me, especially as I came of my own free will. I’d….forgotten. The song….’

‘Is relentless? I remember it all too well.’ Guilt pricked at Lea, no matter Alistair’s denial. ‘It never ends. Being close to them – I had echoes of that hive mind. What it’s like for you, I can’t imagine. How did you survive Corypheus’ fake Calling?’

‘Through sheer force of will. I presume Freya gritted her teeth and got on with it.’ Alistair’s expression hardened. ‘It was excruciating. Having to perform as King and resist an archdemon, or so I thought at the time. I would lock myself away for hours, weeping and begging for it to stop. The court were told that I’d picked up some lingering illness that refused to shift. I owe you a debt of gratitude I’m not sure I can ever repay, for putting an end to that madness.’

‘Think nothing of it.’ Lea waved a hand in dismissal. ‘It was the Inquisition’s doing anyway, not mine on my own.’

‘You downplay your role too often, Lea.’ He raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Who walked the Fade physically and destroyed one of its most powerful demons, the one responsible for the fake Blight? Never mind. To answer your question, I’m fine. Or I will be, once we escape this place. The next time I see the Deep Roads it will be because Freya failed.’

‘You think she will find a cure?’ Lea couldn’t bear the thought of losing Freya and Alistair to the Calling, sending a silent prayer to the Maker that Freya would succeed. ‘No one is more determined than she. Putting off your potential death is a powerful motivator.’

‘Honestly? I have no clue if she will succeed, even with what drives her. She wants to give me an heir.’ Alistair’s shoulders slumped in an uncharacteristic sign of defeat. ‘More importantly, a child of our own. Being down here - I’m confronted with my mistakes. The last time I traversed the Deep Roads I was a young man, filled with an idealistic zeal I laugh at now. Maker, the choices I made, and took so lightly at the time of the Blight. How different things could have been.’

_Morrigan never told him she was at Skyhold?_

_How could I meet Alistair’s own son before he had the chance to!_

Lea sucked in a sharp breath. Visions of a small boy with Alistair’s ears and winning smile rose before her. Every child deserved to know their father.

_Don’t they?_

‘Alistair….’ Lea had no idea where to begin, stopping herself in time from blurting out her knowledge of Kieran’s existence. There was a time and place, and right now was not it. ‘I’m sorry too. Is Freya on a wild goose chase? Possibly, but we will find her, I promise. I’ve got no words of wisdom. But I can’t regret your presence. I couldn’t have done this without you. You talk of debts you can’t repay – the same applies to me.’

‘There are no debts between friends. While I see ghosts of Freya every which way I turn, to say I’m suffering is an exaggeration.’ He shrugged lightly. ‘Being reminded of my youthful folly…well, I’ve been getting over my stupidity for the last ten years. I will last a while longer.’

The fire crackled as they lapsed into silence. Lea was content to observe Alistair, marvelling at how he’d grown in character over the past ten years. The boy had matured into the man, the pressures of kinghood adding an extra layer of wisdom far beyond Alistair’s years. In Alistair, Lea had discovered a kindred spirit, another who’d been forced to play a role they believed themselves ill-suited for, both bowing in submission when presented with no other option.

The King of Ferelden, for all his mocking banter and prestige of his station, was as lonely as she was, needing to seek some form of respite from the ever-persistent heartache of loss.

‘Do you ever think back on that time? When you were in Denerim?’ Alistair asked her, interrupting Lea from her reverie. ‘Whether things would have turned out any differently?’

‘Cullen often asks me that. Isn’t it funny, how our lives are so entwined. Yours, Freya and Cullen’s especially.’ Lea clasped her knees, thoughtful as she recalled Cullen’s confession. ‘I – I know….Cullen was in love with Freya for so long, even when he was in Kirkwall.’

‘He told you that, did he?’ Alistair gave a small smile, capturing her pensive mood. ‘They were each other’s first love. Lovers too. You don’t forget that experience in a hurry.’

She halted, trying to find the right words to explain how that night in Kirkwall had impacted upon Cullen – how rediscovering his first love had started a chain reaction of events that had transformed his perspective on living. Lea was a Circle mage. She understood too well the forbidden temptation, the bonds Templars and mages could build in the most adverse circumstances. Bonds that were hard to break, no matter how many years had passed by.

‘It shows the depth of devotion you have for Freya, no matter what she asked. Not to mention the trust the three of you have in each other, which left me feeling humbled, to be honest.’

Alistair looked startled, then stilled at her hesitant speech, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. He caught her implication, his hands involuntarily clenching into a fist before eventually releasing. Eyes closed, he released a long breath, considering his response before replying.

‘Freya loves Cullen still. She never forgot him, actually. For the whole duration of the Blight, I thought she’d forever be in love with this Templar who’d hurt her, refusing to let him go. Even after the abuse he hurled at her in Kinloch Hold. Believe me, he was pretty damned horrendous. I didn’t recognise the man he became for so long afterwards. Torture does that to a person, to be fair.’

‘They were each other’s first,’ he continued slowly, the decade rolling back as if it were yesterday. ‘Even though it could never go anywhere, Freya loved him with that intense passion you only feel in your youth. I should know. Hell, I was rabidly jealous of Cullen that whole year we were fighting darkspawn. Then the Landsmeet happened and everything changed. As for that night in Kirkwall – Freya hoped to reach out to Cullen, help him heal from the past and show him mages weren’t the danger he’d been conditioned to believe. She wanted to say goodbye properly, erase the horror of the last time they’d met. I had no fear of being usurped by him and, given she was about to leave….how could I say no?’

‘Cullen still battles that demon, every day. Without you and Freya….you did reach him. Help put him on the path to redemption.’

‘I’m glad. Some sacrifices are worth it.’

The contemplative mood hadn’t left her, the two of them wrapped in their own thoughts as they recalled events long gone. Lulled by a sense of disassociation from her earlier flashback, combined with being in such an alien land, Lea was vulnerable – wistful, even, as she relived the past. The heat of Alistair’s large body radiated through the leather of her armour, imagining the raptures her foolish twentysomething self would have been in to have him so near. She sighed, the remembered follies of her youth bubbling to the surface.

‘I was in love with you.’ The words left her mouth before she could stop herself. ‘There you were, this heroic figure saving Thedas from another Blight, and a newly crowned king, no less. A dashing, handsome warrior in shining armour, with the world at his feet. You’re the stuff of bad romance novels. Especially to susceptible young women.’

‘I don’t know whether to be honoured or disturbed.’ Alistair’s flippancy was ruined by a catch in his voice, her pulse quickening in response. ‘The idea of a gaggle of damsels swooning before me is not that appealing, funnily enough. I’ve only got one pair of hands to catch them with. But I interrupted you. Please, carry on. I find myself intrigued by the turn in conversation.’

‘There’s really very little to say. Why the fuck am I rehashing such ancient history…..’ One half of Lea was astonished that she’d made such an admission, the other cringing inwardly at the stupid young thing she’d been. ‘It went beyond the purely physical. I…I’d never connected with anyone the way I had with you. I adored Freya too, so I was stuck in this ever-repeating circle of shame and yearning for what I could never have. I was terrified of destroying the only two friendships I had, while pining away for you in my ivory tower. That youthful passion you mentioned? Well…that was me. For you. Except it wasn’t reciprocated, and for good reason.’

She fell silent, nothing to be heard aside from the crackling and popping of flames in the dark. Why Lea had blurted out such a stupid idiocy from when she was young and stupid, she had no idea. Perhaps it was the mood, both she and Alistair closeted alone in the darkness which lent itself to sharing confidences from days long gone. Perhaps it was a distraction from the shitty mess she found herself in, easier to daydream than address the harsh facts of reality. Or perhaps it was a vain attempt to halt her endless, agonising longing for Cullen, seeking companionship and comfort from someone she knew who also loved her unconditionally – albeit without the romance she’d once fantasised about.

Either way, she’d made a monumental fool of herself, Lea shooing away her past self and gearing herself up to offer a grovelling apology. Yet the small, wistful flame of her girlhood refused to be extinguished, the forgotten emotions suddenly thumping her squarely in her middle as she recalled the heady rush of her first love.

‘I’ll share a secret with you.’

She clamped her lips closed at Alistair’s unexpected interruption. Her already skittering pulse was sent into overdrive at the return of that slight catch in his voice, Alistair far more moved by her flight of fancy than she’d realised.

‘If there were no Freya and no Cullen – if they’d found a way to be together once the Circles fell – you’d be my Queen, Lea. We’d have met, fallen in love and I’d have married you instead. Of that I have no doubt.’

‘What?’ That was the cleverest thing she could think of to say, so stunned was Lea by his confession.

‘Oh, Freya and I have talked about this often. She used to tease me about it.’ Alistair spoke quietly in the dark, almost a whisper. ‘We had a huge fight once. As trouble in the Circles started to brew, when it became apparent that the Circles and the Templar Order were undergoing massive change. That’s where I originally got the idea from, to marry a mage, except it was meant to be her. She said you’d make a better Queen than she ever could, and wanted me to court you.’

‘That’s crazy. I’d always have been second best.’ Lea gave a short laugh, while checking to make sure she hadn’t entered a parallel universe. ‘Flattered though I would be, to rule Ferelden by your side, no thanks.’

‘Boost a man’s ego why don’t you,’ he joked, ‘although you are right. I may as well have married Anora if I wanted a loveless marriage. If there were no Freya though…..’ Alistair’s hazel eyes held hers, Lea’s wits completely scrambled. ‘I say awkward things, like ask women if they’re female. I’m beyond stupid – well, according to Morrigan, and I’m terrible at sewing, come to think of it. Look at you. You’re one of the most accomplished mages in southern Thedas, intelligent, witty and so beautiful it’s impossible for me to understand what a woman like you would ever see in a hopeless case like me. Yet, you love me, I’ve always known that. You accept me for who I am, flaws and all. No woman, aside from Freya, had ever done that. I was a political pawn, a trophy for the women at court and I rebelled against it. But you saw through that mask, reached to the person inside.’

He drew a shaky breath, reaching for Lea’s hand and holding it tightly. She couldn’t move, her heart in her mouth, in mourning for the young people they’d been – Cullen, Alistair, Freya, herself. Before war and chaos and political expediency had wreaked havoc on each and every one of them.

‘In that other world? There would have only been you. I would have moved heaven and earth to be with you, Lea.’

‘There would only have been you for me,’ Lea whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. ‘Sewing is overrated, you’re one of the funniest people of my acquaintance, and the most compassionate – and Morrigan has a vastly inflated opinion of her own self-importance. Ferelden is lucky to have you as its king. I think I get it, how Freya loves the both of you. I love you too.’

‘I love you, Lea. Never doubt that. I will always be here for you.’

Finally, a silly but heartfelt truth she’d held so close to her through the years, had been shared with a man who, in so many ways was responsible for bringing her and Cullen together. The young Lea within her was weeping for what might have been. The Lea who’d attended the Conclave and fallen out of the sky into a certain ex Templar’s arms could only be grateful for the path Andraste had deemed both she and Alistair should tread.

 Alistair’s arms went around her waist in a tight embrace, holding her close. They offered each other simple solace, neither one moving for a few minutes as they absorbed the impact of the confidences they’d shared. In this strange underworld place, surrounded by lethal enemies, Cullen in danger and a million miles away, Lea hadn’t expected to find a sense of resolution. The lost girl within was, at long last, at peace.

‘Isn’t it funny, the twists and turns the Maker puts us through.’ Lea lay her cheek on his shoulder once more. Absently, she noted the tickle of his bead and strength of his arms, the scent of bergamot she always associated with Alistair mixed in with traces of leather and metal from his armour. ‘Somewhere, there is an alternate universe where Freya and Cullen stayed together and you and I married. Where Circles are civilised places, Blights don’t exist, children aren’t ordered to live in kennels and magic is seen as a blessing, not a curse. Where we could simply be.’

‘This universe certainly leaves a lot to be desired,’ Alistair agreed, his chin resting lightly on top of her head. ‘But can you imagine a world without Cullen in it?’

‘About as much as you want to imagine a world with no Freya. To love this deeply exposes our souls – but the rewards far outweigh any of the risks. I would rather have a year of Cullen’s love then a lifetime without. Even given your royal presence.’

‘I’ll do my best to not be offended,’ Alistair replied teasingly. ‘And to think, I was about to design a matching crown for you and everything.’

‘Thanks, but I’ll pass up that glorious opportunity if you don't mind.’ She was sombre again, twisting slightly to look up at Alistair directly. ‘You and Cullen – your friendship goes back to your childhood. How did – how did you rebuild it after Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall? Cullen still struggles to talk about that dark time and I – I want to help.’

‘Thank Freya. I wanted to kill him. She wanted to forgive him.’ Alistair didn’t hesitate in his answer. ‘She rightly pointed out the trauma he lived through, every day, after Uldred and his mages caused wholesale slaughter. You don’t want to know what Ferelden’s Circle looked like the day we found him. I’ve seen a lot but that was carnage on a scale of violence similar to Ostagar. Trapped in this magical cage, listening to the howls of the tortured and dying. He was convinced we were desire demons. Leliana tried her best to get him to eat and drink and he refused. He didn’t even acknowledge me, even after we freed him, which was probably just as well. I’d have throttled him for what he said to Freya that day. Then for some Maker-forsaken reason they shipped him off to Kirkwall where Meredith manipulated his fear even further. You’ve witnessed the rest.’

‘He’s spoken about it with me a couple of times. Mainly his regret in the accusations he made against Freya.’ Lea chewed a nail as she thought on the horrific circumstances Cullen had been forced to endure. ‘By the time he reached Kirkwall, the transition to the feared and hated Knight-Captain had already begun. I think he needed time to recover and reintegrate with mages, which he wasn’t given. Instead the Order promoted him, and Meredith tried to turn Cullen into her pet mage-loathing lapdog. Not one of us Ostwick mages ever wanted to go to Kirkwall. We always found an excuse to avoid the place.’

‘Those were dark years,’ Alistair agreed. ‘Cullen is a changed man since he left the Templars. Even more so now he’s with you. You’re good for each other and you help him more than you realise.’

‘I told Cullen I was in love with you, way back when.’ She was beginning to feel drowsy, the lack of sleep combined with the solid, protective presence of Alistair too potent for her to ignore.

‘Did you really?’ Alistair laughed, rearranging her on the bedroll. She was lying down once more, her head resting in his lap. ‘I’m agog to hear what Cullen’s reaction was.’

‘That he’d get a complex because he had to compete with a king. Silly man. I told him that no one comes close.’ Lea yawned, unable to keep her eyelids open. She snuggled into a ball once more, the tension draining from her face while Alistair massaged her temples. ‘Cullen wouldn’t mind us, like this, right now. He’d expect it from you, I think. So would Freya. To take care of me. Not that I need it. I’m a big girl. I can take care of you instead.’

‘You are, you can – especially when we confront all those magisters – and yes, they both would expect me to,’ Alistair murmured, Lea too tired to ponder the slight hardening of his tone – as if he was repeating a vow. ‘That’s why I am here. For the two most important women in my life. Now, close your eyes and rest.’

Lea couldn’t answer him. Safe, secure and feeling more positive than she had done since she’d woken to the horror of Cullen’s abduction, she fell fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The work of man and woman,  
> By hubris of their making.  
> The sorrow a blight unbearable.  
> Threnodies 7:1, Chant of Light
> 
> Honestly, the feels I have for Alistair right now are ridiculous.....ruined by ex Templars.....


	13. A Past Reborn

_Maker save me._

_How did I end up here?_

The sun beat down on the back of his neck, the coarse linen of his peasant attire saturated with dust and sweat. The smell of animals and humanity packed into too tight a space assailed his nose, Cullen raising a hand to block out the vile stench. Ships of every size and colour dotted the harbour before him, the azure blue of the sea stretching as far as the eye could see. Cries from the vendors lining the side of the Imperial highway were bellowing above the noise of the crowd, thousands of people streaming in and out of the great city of Minrathous as they went about their daily business.

_Let me amend that. Supposedly great._

_Built from blood, slavery and depravity._

Tevinter was at the very bottom of the list of places he wanted to visit. He couldn’t find it within himself to be impressed by Minrathous’ fabled architecture, especially since he was acutely aware of the mechanics involved in its construction. Nudging his horse on, he set his jaw, resolutely ignoring the oppressive sensation crushing his chest. The famed golems dwarfed the bridge’s entrance, Cullen unpleasantly reminded of the forbidding welcome to Kirkwall’s harbour and the Gallows.

‘Welcome to Minrathous,’ Vivienne murmured, moving alongside him. ‘Quite the display they put on for visitors, is it not?’

‘It’s designed to frighten and subdue.’ He refused to display signs of either, straightening slightly in the saddle. ‘Grandstanding magisters. That’s all they’re good for because they certainly don’t give a damn about much else.’

‘Ssssh!’ Vivienne smacked him lightly on his hand. ‘Try not to draw attention to yourself by pouring scorn on the ruling classes! Do you want to get us killed?’

‘No, more’s the pity,’ Cullen grudgingly acknowledged. ‘You made certain of that through the dirty little spell you cast. Fear not, Vivienne. Your safety is my priority.’

‘I’m glad we understand one another.’ She looked ahead while they clattered over the bridge, clearly on the lookout. ‘We’re nearly within the city walls now. They don’t get too many Fereldens visiting so you’re bound to elicit interest.’

Cullen didn’t have time to respond, narrowly avoiding a major crash with a top-heavy wagon laden with watermelons. Vivienne’s desire for subtlety was for naught if he clogged up the only route into Minrathous. That danger averted, Cullen was left fighting the horror sinking into the pit of his stomach.

He was thousands of miles away from Skyhold, stuck in a place he’d reviled since childhood. He was about to call it home for an undetermined period of time. Perhaps forever. Magic seeped out of every pore of Mintrathous’ foundations, a shimmer invisible to the naked eye. Cullen was swamped by the overwhelming amount of magical energy radiating outwards the closer they edged. As a Templar, he was well used to the sensation of magic prickling against his skin. This, however, was beyond anything he’d had the misfortune to experience. His skin, already chafing from sunburn, was on fire from the almost casual manipulations of the Fade that were taking place second after second.

Mages were supposed to use magic only when required. He’d unbent on the need to have Templars present every moment magic was practiced – hard for Cullen not to, given who he’d fallen so hopelessly in love with. Still, leaving behind decades of learned behaviour courtesy of Chantry preaching, was not going to happen overnight. Confronted by the sheer volume of magic use in Tevinter, all concentrated in one spot, he could barely breathe. One half of him wanted to run away and hide from it all. The other half returned to the avenging Templar of old, determined to punish unauthorised magic use and ferret out every last blood mage abomination before they launched an attack.

Having survived an uneventful border crossing from Orlais, he’d managed to keep such dark emotions bottled up since they’d set foot in Tevinter. His control had been helped by Vivienne insisting on travelling little known routes to avoid detection by Inquisition and Orlesian spies. While he’d heard stories about how free magic use was in Tevinter, he’d been shocked to see how openly it was wielded. For all Leaena’s edicts as Inquisitor, backed by Leliana in her new role as Divine, the vast majority of the population in southern Thedas remained wary of the free mages. The fall of the Circles and the Templar Order had been bloody and brutal on both sides. Combined with centuries of Chantry rhetoric against mages, superstition and mistrust against magic use still reigned supreme.

The opposite ethos ruled in the Tevinter Imperium, magic instead celebrated and feted as the pinnacle of achievement. Cullen had read extensive texts on the mageocracy, absorbed tomes on the perpetual war between the Imperium and the Qun and debated magical theory and Templar powers with Dorian at length.  He thought he’d be prepared, at least to a certain extent. How wrong he’d been was proven within five minutes of laying eyes on the towers of Minrathous.

Letting go of a deep breath, he stared forwards, reminding himself to focus on the present and not become distracted. Uldred and his mages were dead these ten years gone. There was absolutely nothing he, a lone ex-Templar, could achieve despite how abhorrent he found his new surroundings.

_I can do this._

_For her, I must._

He averted his eyes from the harrowing sight of an elven slave being beaten by her master, only to see another slave child pulling a cart far too burdensome for his malnourished frame. Everywhere he turned, Cullen saw excess and misery and suffering, a squalid society with no redeeming features whatsoever. His knuckles were white as he gripped the reins of his horse, fighting the urge to draw the sword resting on his hip. Smoothing his features to a bland expression, Cullen made an attempt to hide his revulsion.

As to their end destination, Cullen didn’t have a clue, Vivienne refusing to speak for most of the journey north as her instability worsened. It had been a challenge to hold his tongue but he’d managed. He’d held up his side of the bargain thus far, keeping her safe and providing her with suitable cover on their travels. It was, however, high time to drop the pretence of devoted husband and wife, Cullen impatient to know exactly what her plans were.

‘So, _wife_.’ His patience, frayed by the perpetual hum of magic in his ears, was at an end. ‘Whatever is in your head, you’d better spit it out. How I am supposed to guard you is beyond me, if I have not the first idea of our destination nor of what is to come.’

Vivienne slanted him a sideways glare at his blunt request. ‘After what you and Leaena have done to me, you seriously expect me to throw caution to the winds? No, Cullen, you’ll have to wait and see. I trust you as far as I can throw you.’

‘Whether you trust me is irrelevant.’ Cullen refused to hide his anger any more. ‘You have my compliance through that vial on your neck. I’m here, am I not? I repeat – I cannot keep you safe unless I have more detail. That is why you bought me along, let’s not forget.’

Her glare became calculating, assessing how much information she could share. Vivienne had, so far, given him precious little to go on. That she was expecting someone was apparent. Cullen still wasn’t aware how she’d managed to escape, who performed the Rite reversal nor who she was searching for. He kept his frustrations to himself, biding his time. She was already more relaxed since they’d crossed into Tevinter, and once she could freely cast again she’d unwind further. When she let her guard down further, as she’d done before in the tavern, Cullen would be ready.

‘We’re heading to the docks,’ Vivienne replied eventually. ‘Be watchful. That said, I want our entrance to be as unobtrusive as possible.’

‘I hope you’ve got an idea to get us past the gate guards.’ Cullen was more concerned about the impeding confrontation with the legionnaires on duty, scrutinising papers of every traveller into the city. They were flanked by two of Tevinter’s famed elephant cavalry, allowing Cullen the first opportunity he’d had to observe the creatures at close quarters.

Vivienne gave a scornful snort. ‘Do you take me for an amateur, darling? If I can fool the pair of you I hardly think a few simple guards will present any difficulties.’

‘Yes, yes you’re quite the master forger.’ Cullen didn’t need a reminder of one of the most painful periods of his life, ignoring her jibe. ‘So long as you’re sure magically altered documents will stand up to scrutiny in this hellhole…..’

‘You are being deliberately obtuse this morning, Commander. Even more so than normal.’ Vivienne reached back into her pack, producing two officious-looking documents, complete with the seal of Tevinter at the bottom. ‘There are no real Templars here to dispel my efforts. Aside from you and I’m fairly confident you won’t do anything to jeopardize that idiot girl’s well-being.’

Cullen counted to ten then unclenched his teeth. Deciding that any further discussion was counterproductive when Vivienne was out to goad him, he scanned the docks. The entrance was just visible behind the massive city gates, while below he saw the usual teeming activity associated with a busy port, slaves loading and unloading ships. Presumably the dockside was the same as any other, rife with violence, drunkards and thieves. He’d undertaken enough patrols of Kirkwall’s harbour area to give him an inkling of what to expect.

He’d been so lost in his observations he hadn’t noticed how quickly their turn came to present their papers. Vivienne plastered on a bland expression while Cullen hunched his shoulders and tried his best to hide his powerful frame. Burly farmers were ten a penny and it wasn’t uncommon for travellers to arm themselves. A farmer with knowledge of how to wield a longsword, however, was a different proposition.

The guard gave their passes a cursory glance, looking up with a disdainful expression. ‘What brings a Ferelden barbarian to Tevinter? You’re far from home.’

Before Cullen had a chance to open his mouth, Vivienne raised her palm, a flame dancing in the middle. ‘My good man, are you not aware of the Mage-Templar war in southern Thedas? I, like so many of my fellows have had to flee the carnage, heading to this haven which is Minrathous. But even a mage needs protection from the savages in the South. This man is my protector and I simply cannot go anywhere without his support.’

_No more._

_This time, I will have answers!_

Cullen had frozen in his saddle at Vivienne’s blatant use of magic without warning. He felt something inside snap, pushed beyond his limits of tolerance and furious with her for placing him and Leaena in such a vulnerable position. If she was prepared to finally show her hand, his adoption of a subservient position was over.

‘You’re a mage?’ The soldier straightened up and gave her a salute. ‘You should have said. The city is yours. Welcome to Minrathous, my lady.’

Not deigning to respond, Vivienne drew herself up, trotting forward. Cullen remembered his manners, nodding to the man as he followed close behind. Repeating to himself that arguing in the street would avail him nothing but trouble, he concentrated instead on his new surroundings. It was in his interest to study every last detail. He’d never know when such information might be useful.

As he suspected, the poorer communities of Minrathous congregated around the city walls and docks. Narrow streets with cramped houses towered over him, Cullen and Vivienne picking their way slowly through the congestion. Everywhere he looked was a press of bodies, from prostitutes touting their wares to street sellers hawking produce he didn’t want to examine too closely. The noise was almost unbearable, occasionally made worse by slaves shouting for people to give way, some Altus being carried in a litter to protect them from the filth underfoot.

From his vantage point on top of his horse, Cullen rapidly memorised every nook and cranny his eyes could absorb. Years of training allowed him to shut off the tumult of anger and fear, shunting such strong emotions aside for use at a later date. He assimilated detail after detail, embracing the clinical detachment of a professional soldier which had repeatedly saved his life. Now was no exception. Stranded, alone and with no resources to call on, never had he been under more pressure to deliver his best.

The spiral roads and the hulking defences fitted with what he’d been taught in the Order. Minrathous had been built to withstand even the most brutal of attacks. The bridge he’d just crossed could be destroyed simply by a wave of a magister’s hand, while he noted entrances to the vast catacombs underneath situated at regular intervals. Vast caverns below street level held food to feed the whole city for a year. He’d already noted the sea defences to protect the port and dock area. The whole layout of Minrathous was, unsurprisingly, similar to Kirkwall. The poor and expendable lived in the lower parts of the city, the rich and elite in its upper echelons. Travelling between them would, he suspected, involve passing through heavily fortified gates, each one being able to be shut in case of invasion.

Of course, that only accounted for the physical fortification. An ancient magic permeated every rock, the buildings themselves radiating an aura he’d never encountered. Even the might of the Qunari would struggle to secure a victory with the combined military and magical power the Imperium could call upon. Minrathous was not the biggest city in Thedas without good reason. Val Royeaux appeared to be a rustic backwater in comparison.

When there were occasional breaks between the buildings, Cullen caught a glimpse of the larger, grander structures situated towards the top, graceful aqueducts spanning the city’s heights. He gave an internal shudder. The splendour had been created on the back of blood magic, hundreds of slaves sacrificed in the name of progress. It made Cullen’s skin crawl, to know that inside these walls someone at this very moment would be practicing such an evil school of magic.

The smell of salt water mingled with sewage hit his nostrils. Seconds later they rounded a corner, the docks now in plain view. Vivienne abruptly gestured to him to halt by a grubby tavern, drunken sailors leering at her by the door. With one contemptuous swipe of her hand the men stumbled and fell, eyes wide with fear when they realised she’d clubbed them down with magic. Miraculously the area surrounding the inn was deserted in seconds, a hush falling over the immediate vicinity.

‘Vermin.’ Vivienne tossed her head back, stalking up the stairs. ‘Come, Knight-Commander. We have business to conclude.’

Wordlessly Cullen slid from his mount, capturing the reins of both horses and securing them to a nearby pole. He’d dwell on the implications of her using his old title later, allowing himself a moment to assess the radical change in his captor. Vivienne’s whole demeanour had shifted now she was inside Minrathous. Her head was held high, her eyes proud and scornful. Despite her garb being better suited to a kitchen maid, she wore the rags as if they were crafted from the finest silk. No one could mistake her for anything less than she was – a formidable mage with enough arrogance and power to take on the whole of the Magisterium in one fell swoop.

Cullen would have laughed at Vivienne’s audacity if he hadn’t already known that was her sole intention.

‘Rest assured we will talk later about your grand entrance into Minrathous,’ he ground out angrily, slinging his pack onto his back. ‘For now, do you want to tell me what the fuck we’re doing in this cesspit?’

‘My my, aren’t we testy today.’ She then proceeded to dismiss him, gliding forward into the tavern. ‘All in good time, my dear. Patience is a virtue, or did they skip that part of your Templar training?’

It was all he could do to restrain himself from biting out a sharp retort. Clenching his fists and firmly planting an image of Leaena in his mind to calm himself down, he prowled into the darkened room. Dirty rushes were strewn across the floor, soaked by cheap ale. The only light came from a rusty candelabra with half the candles missing. Wards shimmered, ensuring they had privacy from the outside world. The place was empty thanks to Vivienne’s magical display, save for a lone patron seated at a bench near the back.

There was a familiar look about the man’s blonde head. He wasn’t a Tevinter, but had more of the look of the Free Marches. That he was a talented mage was apparent from the slight green tint radiating from his aura. The unknown stranger looked up at their approach, his eyes hooded.

_How do I know this man?_

_The tilt of his head, that slight lift of his chin…..no, it cannot be!_

‘Lars Trevelyan.’ Vivienne almost crowed in her triumph. ‘How good of you to spare the time to meet.’

The room span, Cullen incandescent with rage. It was no wonder the man was a familiar sight. Cullen had only met Leaena’s siblings, but the Trevelyan bloodline was numerous, with offshoots across the Free Marches. This man had to be one of her many cousins from a distant branch of the family tree. He doubted that it was mere chance Vivienne had arranged a meeting with this particular man. Not only did Vivienne intend on infecting her poison into Leaena’s wider family, she wanted him to bear witness.

He took a steadying breath, examining the man closely. Lars was younger than Leaena, perhaps by two or three years. He was handsome, with the aquiline features of a Trevelyan, the green of his eyes now glowing with his magic. Judging from his expression, Lars was as pleased to be in Vivienne’s company as Cullen was. There was a thunderous frown on his face as he rose in greeting.

‘Vivienne.’ Lars’ voice was flat and unwelcoming. ‘Everything is in place, as you ordered.’

‘Splendid.’ Vivienne was urbane, spreading her hands in welcome. ‘Let me introduce you to Knight-Commander Cullen. He’s going to be aiding us further.’

‘That is no longer my title. As for your plan,’ Cullen interrupted, his voice menacingly soft. ‘You had better start talking, and fast, given your charming display outside. You may have me over a barrel but I too can conjure up a myriad of ways to your life uncomfortable if you don’t comply.’

Evidently, threatening another mage hadn’t been well received by the newcomer. Lars turned at Cullen’s threat, surprise written on his face. He opened his mouth to speak then thought better of it. The hint of fear and revulsion in his eyes at Cullen’s warning, however, was unmissable. Vivienne had used his old title deliberately, a tool to manipulate them both.

_Strange how such a reaction stings, even now._

_Did my service to the Inquisition count for nothing?_

It couldn’t be helped. Enchanter Trevelyan would learn that Cullen was not dangerous. Of more interest to him was what a member of Leaena’s family was doing in Minrathous. Judging from the mage’s less than enthusiastic response, he could only presume coercion. If so, that presented a range of possibilities which hadn’t existed previously. Grimly, he hung onto that one positive outcome, storing that useful piece of intelligence away to exploit at a later date.

‘Gentlemen, such tension.’ Vivienne’s eyes glittered maliciously. ‘We must be quick. I am not heading into the upper part of the city looking like a slave. Lars already looks the part of a wealthy noble mage, exactly the image we need to project. You, Cullen, will change into the armour….’

‘I will do nothing, Vivienne, until you give me the unadorned truth. No more bullshit.’ Cullen stared her down, Lars watching him with a hint of disbelief and grudging respect. ‘I’m sure you remember how pleasant it feels to be put under a Silence. What a pity it would be, to restrain your magic, just when you’ve taken pleasure in wielding it once more.’

It was a most definite risk, to attempt to thwart her, but Cullen was prepared to take the chance. It was beyond time he pushed the boundaries of their dysfunctional partnership. Vivienne scowled at him, a shoot of victory flaming through his veins when he caught her underlying trepidation.

‘Must you always be so tediously pedantic?’ She huffed, relenting. ‘Oh very well, if it keeps you from boring me with your complaints. Lars and I go way back, don’t we darling? As a visiting noble, he’s arranged for our accommodation with Magister Gallus. Which is where we’ll go as soon as you pull your finger out and get into an ensemble appropriate for escorting one of southern Thedas’ most famous mages.’

‘Those stunts you pulled outside?’ Cullen wasn’t yet done. ‘I want your word that you will restrain yourself on magic use, at least until we reach safety.’

‘Or what?’ Vivienne snarled, dropping her pretence of civility. ‘Are you prepared to put the bond between Leaena and I to the test?’

‘Yes,’ he replied unhesitatingly. ‘Because if you don’t do as I say you put her life at far greater risk. It’s a chance I am willing to take.’

‘Lea?’ Lars’ lowered voice broke into the heated discussion. ‘What is wrong with her? Is she safe? I don’t understand –‘.

‘It’s nothing you need concern yourself with for now,’ Vivienne snapped. ‘Alright, Cullen I agree to your terms. Don’t try me further, however, or you will regret it.’

‘I’m not done yet.’ It had taken him a few seconds to place the name of the magister, a sinking pit in the centre of his stomach as he recalled who Gallus was. ‘You’re proposing to take us to a Venatori sympathiser who binds demons for fun. I presume this is one of your friends from the days you served Corypheus?’

‘What of it?’ Vivienne was unrepentant. ‘I hold more influence over Gallus than you give me credit for. His collusion with Corypheus was only known to Alexius, Erimond, Florianne, Samson and myself. Four of them are now dead. I can assure you that he will comply.’

‘That makes no sense.’ Cullen couldn’t grasp the reasoning in Vivienne’s argument. ‘You were convicted in front of a whole ballroom of Orlesian nobles for serving the darkspawan Corypheus. Word would have reached Minrathous of your duplicity. How are you expecting to rise to prominence in Tevinter society when you too are guilty of the same crime?’

‘Because, my dear, unlike our friend the magister, I did not plot to bring down the Archon and Magesterium and replace it with that despot. My dabble in red lyrium trade can easily be explained. I was studying the impact of the Blight on precious lyrium supplies, after all, and I bring with me research which will be useful to a nation that drowns in the stuff.’ She tilted her head with an expression of feigned innocence. ‘Varric is right. You lack the imagination, Cullen, to spin a convincing story. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. I have evidence against Gallus that I will not hesitate to use to bring him to heel.’

‘Wonderful. You’ve terrorised him into supporting you, just as you have Lars and me. I’m sure Gallus deserves to be on the receiving end of your special brand of retribution.’ Cullen oozed sarcasm. ‘And what of your tame Templar, the Commander of the Inquisition who captured you and ordered the Rite of Tranquility? The same one who just so happened to abandon his responsibilities to enjoy the pleasure of your company on a leisurely journey north? Pull the other one, Vivienne, this story has more holes in it than a sieve.’

Vivienne trilled a laugh, her smirk only serving to increase his aggravation. ‘Must I do all your thinking for you? You’re here serving the Inquisition, you fool. I, as one of the most notorious mages in Thedas, require close guarding. Who better than the Commander himself? You don’t need to answer anything you don’t want to, my dear. Or are you in a habit of explaining your actions to your inferiors?’

‘Forget it. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.’ If she believed such lies would suffice, so be it. Cullen didn’t have the energy to waste arguing. ‘Give me fifteen minutes.’

Before he was pushed to wring Vivienne’s neck, Cullen walked to a side room which Lars indicated he should use. He closed the door, recoiling at the sight he was greeted with. A gleaming suit of plate armour was ready to be donned, complete with sword and shield. He recognised it all too well, the armour of a Templar he’d worn every day for over a decade staring right back at him. A none-too subtle hint of a washstand complete with shaving kit indicated Vivienne’s desire to see him presentable.

Vivienne, it seemed, was hell-bent on drawing him back into his past life no matter how fast he ran. Whether her intention was to humiliate him further to remind him of his failures, or whether she wanted to keep him to heel by reminding him of his past, Cullen couldn’t be sure. Too add insult to injury, the permanent thirst in his throat reminded him it was time for his daily lyrium draught.

It was with conflicting emotions that Cullen stripped out of his simple garb, tossing it in a heap in the corner. It appeared he was here to play the role of Knight-Commander once more, Vivienne prepared to accept nothing less for her triumphant entry into Minrathous than a demonstration of the power she could wield over the Inquisitor herself.

_I can either let her win, or I can use this to my advantage._

_Knight-Commander is a title I hold for life. I shall embrace my past, for one last time._

Donning the mask of Knight-Commander Cullen would allow him opportunities that would otherwise be closed off. He refused to allow Vivienne victory, to reveal any hint of pain readopting his past life would cause. Instead, this was a chance to beat her at her own game, Vivienne having never encountered the intimidating Templar of old. Regret held no place in this particular battlefield. The time to repent would come once Leaena was saved. Forcibly quashing the encroaching darkness, he steeled himself to reinstate his former life.

Lathering his face and picking up the blade, he removed the scraggly stubble. His hair was back to its usual blonde and the beard itself had disappeared, Vivienne deeming it unimportant for him to hide every characteristic once they’d crossed into Tevinter. Scraping the sharp metal across his skin, Cullen pondered the new arrival. Lars, in addition to wishing himself a million miles away from Vivienne, had no indication of the danger to Leaena’s life. The small spark of hope which he’d nursed was glowing brighter, Cullen refusing to let Vivienne’s mind games distract him from his ultimate goal.

Finishing his ablutions, smoothing his fingers over his now clean-shaven jaw and tidying up his unruly hair, Cullen turned to deal with the armour. In a trice he’d donned the underclothes followed by the trademark long red and black robes, all in a far finer material than he’d been wearing these past few months. Not allowing himself time to think, he then strapped on the plate, a familiar ritual it would be impossible for him to forget. The deep red sash he fitted last, adjusting the heavy material round his waist.

Before he knew it, Cullen was once more in the guise of a Templar.

‘Why don’t we ensure my transformation is complete,’ he muttered irritably, fishing in his bags for a philter of lyrium. ‘If it gives me even the slightest edge…it will be worth it.’ He tossed the lyrium back, drawing a shuddering breath. Nails dug into his palms as he fought off the intoxicating high, Cullen allowing himself a few seconds for the potency to diffuse through his blood.

The deal he’d made with the Carta mercifully lasted right up to the border, a regular stock of lyrium now secured since arriving in Tevinter. He didn’t want to dwell on how addicted he’d become to the blasted stuff once again, Cullen weak with relief to have an uninterrupted supply. Any foolhardy dreams he’d fostered, of being able to walk away from lyrium as and when he’d wanted, had been well and truly shattered.

Instead, he tortured himself by only allowing the bare minimum to pass his lips. It was the only resistance available to him, Cullen fighting a rearguard battle against the Chantry’s iron control over his life. He’d had ample time to question the order of things during the long road north, free of the myriad of duties that came with being Commander of the Inquisition and devoid of responsibility for the first time in his adult life. He’d yet to reach any conclusion, save one of anger. Cullen didn’t appreciate being lied to, nor manipulated. Yet, the more he cast his mind back to his years in Kirkwall and his training as a raw recruit, the more his mind pointed the finger of blame squarely at the Chantry.

His faith, unswerving for so long, was undergoing the test of a lifetime.

‘Now is not the time for a theological debate,’ Cullen admonished to himself. ‘Nor to give an inch to Vivienne. It serves my purposes admirably, to adopt the mantle of a Templar one last time. Let her see how little bothered I am by her pathetic attempts to shake my composure.’

There was still one more task required to effect his transformation. Putting his gauntlets aside, Cullen reached around his throat and lifted a silver chain free. He weighed the two signet rings in his palm before replacing one and sliding it back over his neck. The other he slipped onto the fourth finger of his right hand. The heavy gold Knight-Commander’s seal flashed in the dim light, Cullen recalling the last time he’d had cause to use its authority.

_The White Spire. To retrieve her phylactery._

_History unwittingly repeats itself._

He had no time to waste. Pulling on his gauntlets, his expression set in stone, Cullen secured his shield on his left forearm. In a way, he didn’t mind the pull of the armour or the broadsword hanging next to his leg. He was here to do battle against a magic so evil, only a fully-fledged Templar could stand a hope of success.

_I am that, at least._

He left behind the helm, opting to leave his head uncovered as had been his wont in Kirkwall. The symbol of Templar authority rested on his finger, snug under the fitted gauntlets. As he secured them at each wrist, Cullen’s resolve hardened. He had no room for doubt or regret - any lapse would prove fatal. He'd reached his decision and all that remained was for him to act the part. With that resolution made, he spun on his heel and threw the rickety door open, bracing himself for any further confrontation.

She watched him with lips pursed, finally nodding her head in approval. For her part, Vivienne was once more garbed in her usual form-fitting and revealing outfit, a clinging white dress rick in silk, barely covered by a flowing cloak. Cullen couldn’t understand her need to flaunt herself in such an obvious manner. As for the convoluted headdress she was sporting, words failed him. There was no denying her sensual beauty, but to him she resembled a desperate peacock.

He gave a mental shrug. What Vivienne chose to deck herself out in was irrelevant, so long as she kept away from him as much as humanly possible.

‘Cullen.’ Vivienne leant against her new staff, examining his altered appearance. ‘You actually look the part. How surprising.’

‘If you’d been one of the mages under my command in Kirkwall, Vivienne, we wouldn’t be standing here now having this conversation.’ Cullen saw no harm in reminding Vivienne of what he was capable of. ‘Be grateful it’s me and not Meredith before you.’

‘Kirkwall’s Knight-Captain.’ Lars was even more on edge now Cullen had reappeared, the very embodiment of the Templar Order the mage still feared. ‘Meredith was your commanding officer. You killed mages and tortured them for sport, to the point where Anders felt driven to blow up the Chantry! But Leaena….she loves you….how can you be trusted…’

‘I don’t care if you’re Leaena’s family,’ Cullen growled, his forbearance long exhausted. ‘I will not stand around arguing over history. Vivienne – get a move on. We’re going. Trevelyan – I presume you have a mount somewhere?’

‘Yes, outside.’ Lars recovered himself, straightening his green velvet cloak as he rose. ‘I have new horses for you too, to match your station in Tevinter. It wouldn’t do to be seen in upper town with the beasts you rode in on. The innkeeper will ensure they are found suitable homes.’

Cullen felt a pang, to be separated from the animal who’d carried him so far and so faithfully. He recognised the need to abandon his old horse. That didn’t mean he had to like it, however. He railed against a society which counted image and appearance as more important than honesty and old-fashioned hard work.

‘Very well.’ He gave a curt nod towards the front door and dispelled the wards to remove traces of their presence. ‘If the inkeep knows what is good for him, he’ll ensure that my horse is given a good retirement rather than making its way to the knackers yard.’

Confident whoever owned the tavern had overheard every word, Cullen swiftly made his way outside. He blinked at the bright sunlight reflecting off the shiny plate, the Templar Order insignia on his shield and chest blazing red in the sun. During their time inside, three splendid horses had materialised out the front, his old nag nowhere in sight. Lars had cast a magical deterrent on them to prevent their theft, Cullen’s gaze sliding to the charger which he assumed was his – if the deep red saddle cloth emblazoned with the Order’s regalia was anything to go by. With a flick of his wrist he dispelled the protections, running his hand appreciatively along his horse’s neck.

‘Well done, Lars.’ Vivienne radiated pleasure at seeing the luxury she believed was her due. ‘The mare matches my dress. How appropriate. You may lead on, ser Knight.’

He had no objection. The sooner they moved, the sooner Cullen could start getting on with a plan to free Leaena. Cullen took a few seconds to adjust being on an intelligent and well-trained warhorse. With the slightest nudge of his heels they clattered forwards, Cullen needing to do little with the reins except provide gentle guidance.

Behind him, he heard Vivienne and Lars following. Vivienne intended to have Cullen clear the path for her to follow, an easy task to achieve given his commanding position and ferocious demeanour. It didn’t take much for the crowds to part. One glimpse of his sword, combined with his severe expression, was all it took for the lower ranks of Tevinter society to scurry out of the way. Some gawped at their little procession while others darted away in fear.

Finding his way was easy, especially once they made it to the main thoroughfare. It was merely one long, circular road winding its way to the top. The Archon’s Palace became clearer to view the further they climbed, the streets becoming cleaner and less densely packed. They’d left the slave quarters behind, moving unchallenged through the main gate. The district where the Soporati then Lateans inhabited was a different experience entirely. The former combined non-slave, everyday folk with wealthy merchants complaining about the lack of social mobility while slavishly aping their rulers. The latter boasted of their newly elevated status in Tevinter society, ostentatious and pretentious mansions dripping with ornate and garish sculptures along with other fripperies.

Cullen committed to memory every last square inch of such garish splendour. Information was power, and the more he accumulated the better off he’d be.

‘Halt!’

Pressing his thighs lightly together, Cullen’s horse glided to a stop. He raised his fist, ordering the other two to wait behind him. Judging by the splendour of the marble houses, they’d reached the crossover between the Latean and Altus districts. A lowered portcullis blocked their path, Cullen for the first time seeing Tevinter Templars on duty. Two of them swaggered forward, their insolence apparent in every step.  

‘Two foreigners and a southern Templar,’ a Knight-Lieutenant sneered at him. ‘I’ll let the pretty whore in for some sport later, but the two of you can head back out from whence you came. The likes of you are not welcome.’

The witless man had fallen foul of his filthy mood. Cullen’s response was simple, reaching down to grab the officer by the throat and dangle the now choking man beside his horse in an iron grip. 

_Truly, they can’t even tell who’s a mage and who isn’t?_

_This gets better and better._

Cullen had heard much of his northern brethren, little of it good. They didn’t imbibe lyrium and were toothless against magic use. From his trained eye, they were little more than parade ground flunkies lacking in substance.

‘Know your betters and show some respect. I escort two mages, one of whom is the supposed whore you’d like to see in your bed.’ He squeezed a bit tighter, the man’s face rapidly turning blue. The other Templars had frozen, Cullen’s unexpected show of force beyond anything they’d ever encountered, unwilling to make a wrong move that would result in the death of a senior officer. ‘Now, open this bloody gate before I feel the need to demonstrate to you and your useless squad why southern Templars are so feared!’

The Knight-Lieutenant’s eyes bulged in horror at his proclamation. Cullen released the hapless fool with a loud crash onto the dusty road. One of his comrades retrieved him, dragging the gasping and retching body from harm’s way. The other two ran into the guard house, the portcullis creaking upwards seconds later. Not looking back, Cullen indicated they should continue, urging the horse forwards once more.

‘Did you have to make such a spectacle?’ Vivienne murmured in amusement. ‘Subtlety is not your strong point, is it?’

‘You’re accusing me of making a scene? That’s a bit rich coming from the woman who flattened half a dockside only an hour earlier.’ Cullen’s new plan did not involve being acquiescent. ‘We make a show of strength from the start or we are doomed to failure in this viper’s nest. You of all people should understand my logic.’

‘Of course, darling. I’m merely impressed you chose to fall in line to such an extent.’

Cullen glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow of disbelief. ‘From the moment you issued the prison sentence to me in Skyhold, I have followed your bidding without question. What, precisely, were you expecting to change?’

‘Your compliance has been…..unexpected. I expected more of a fight from you.’ She raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug. ‘Defending a woman’s honour. Perhaps I should be grateful.’

‘Honour? You have none left to defend, Vivienne.’ Cullen hid a smirk at Vivienne’s gasp of outrage, unable to resist goading her further. ‘My only interest is getting you to a place of safety in one piece. Not to fight duels over your fallen virtue.’  

‘How very common of you,’ Vivienne sniped, Cullen’s barbs having hit their mark. ‘It is of little importance. Lars – show us the way to Magister Gallus. I find myself in need of civilised company after such a barren period with only a barbarian to talk to.’

Cullen waited, letting Lars take the lead. He’d never felt the urge to fill silence with small talk, even less so now he had new information to ponder. Vivienne, even though they’d travelled in such close confines together, had guessed little of his nature. Her arrogance and drive for revenge blinded her. In that rapid exchange alone she’d demonstrated her ignorance. Earlier in the tavern she’d also underestimated how readily he’d wear the mask of the menacing Knight-Captain of old. 

_That’s all it is. A mask, a role I must play in this warped version of Tevinter’s Great Game._

_I will never return to that life again. Not that Vivienne needs to know, of course._

The politicking of the magisters was so similar to Orlesian nobles’ squabbles for supremacy he could only liken the ruling classes of Tevinter to the other nation’s national pastime. He would do what he must in that toxic environment, to find a way of breaking Leaena free of her death sentence. If that meant reenacting his role as a Templar and consuming lyrium once more, it was a small price to pay for her life.

Encountering her cousin Lars was the last thing Cullen had expected. Vivienne had some nefarious hold over the other mage, who was ill at ease in their company. No love was lost between the two. Therein lay her other mistake, one that Cullen fully intended to exploit. There was no loyalty to her cause, only threat and deception to ensure her small party towed the line. If he could overcome the man’s mistrust, then Cullen stood a fair chance of discovering information Vivienne had thus far denied him.

‘Here.’ Lars’ tense voice cut into his musings. ‘This is Magister Gallus’ villa. He awaits us inside.’

‘Excellent. I have been interested to make the magister’s acquaintance for some months now.’ Vivienne drew herself up to her full height, indicating they should follow her lead.

The villa was nothing short of a full-blown palace. An ornate moat fronted the building, mermaid-shaped water fountains spouting what Cullen suspected was fragranced water. Pillars of black marble columns lined the building front, a walkway underneath scented with rosebushes and other exotic flowers he didn’t recognise. Two Templars stood watch outside, their swords lowering as the newcomers rode into the property. The whole effect was to cow the visitor, Cullen rebelling at the mere suggestion of bowing a knee to such a corrupt magister.

The wrought iron gates swung closed behind them and the massive oak door in front opened. A slight man appeared in a black robe edged with gold trim, the cowl so typical of Tevinter mages hiding his face. This was the magister Vivienne had twisted to her will, Cullen sensing straight away they were dealing with one of the most powerful mages in the Imperium. Black eyes appraised the small group, judging and presumably finding them wanting. The smile on Magister Gallus’ thin lips was forced, presumably wishing the lot of them at the bottom of the Nocen Sea.

‘Welcome, lady Vivienne.’ Gallus gave a short bow. ‘I am pleased to have you in my humble home. Please, come inside and let us take tea together. The small morning room I think will suit. Enchanter Trevelyan can take Knight-Commander Cullen to his rooms.’

‘What a wonderful idea, my lord.’ Vivienne had already dismissed both Cullen and Lars from her mind, gliding forward to take the magister’s arm. ‘I have missed polite society sorely these past few months.’

The two of them disappeared into the dark of the mansion. Cullen slid to the ground, clenching his teeth at the stench of magic around him. Its gratuitous use everywhere he looked sent bile rising in his throat. He didn’t need to do an intensive investigation to know blood magic had been cast, and fairly recently. It was a challenge to force the old fear to the darkest corner of his brain, but somehow he managed to put one foot in front of the other.

Gallus’ home was on a par with the Emperor’s palace at Halamshiral for splendour, Cullen holding his gaze straight ahead and refusing to be browbeaten by such an obvious display of superiority. He sensed Vivienne in a room to the right as he trailed Lars up an enormous mahogany staircase. There wasn’t much mischief she’d be interested in stirring without him present and he was relieved to skip the pleasantries on this occasion. Gallus had looked at him with contempt reserved, he presumed, for the useless excuses of Templars he’d encountered earlier. That state of affairs suited Cullen perfectly. The more the magister underestimated him, the more Cullen could achieve.

‘Here.’ Lars pushed open a panelled door and led Cullen into a set of beautifully appointed rooms. ‘This is your suite. There’s one benefit to living in Tevinter, the plumbing is second to none. The bathing chamber is to the left and you’ve also got a study just off this living room. Bedroom itself is through there, with a full set of clothing in the Ferelden style for you to wear when you feel the urge to climb out of all that metal.’

‘You’ve thought of everything. Thank you for your assistance. Enchanter Trevelyan….’ It felt decidedly odd to call someone else besides Leaena by such a title. ‘I will, if I may, go to the training yard for an hour or two. Will fit with the magister’s schedule?’

‘I see no reason why not. Both the magister and Vivienne expect you to be at peak performance. I’ll send a footman to show you the way. Drinks at six, dinner at seven. Wait for the gong. Formal wear is also in the closet.’ Lars cast him one final, unreadable look. ‘Welcome to Minrathous and your new life, Knight-Commander.’

With a soft click, the door closed. Cullen stood in the middle of the room, doing his best to orient himself in a day chock full of surprises. His mind was racing, his pulse jumping in a combination of apprehension and nervous excitement. At the start of the day, his sum total knowledge of the situation had been their impending arrival in Minrathous. Vivienne had made a couple of fatal errors he fully intended on exploiting and, if he played his hand right, winning Lars over might net him an unexpected ally.

_All in all, this is the most successful day I’ve had since leaving Skyhold._

_Now, to shake off the neverending irritation which this magic use is causing…_

A cursory look around his luxurious quarters confirmed to Cullen he’d be far happier sleeping in the stable. Taking a glance inside the wardrobe, he grimaced at the sight of the finery he was expected to don that evening. With a sigh of frustration he left the clothes alone. This was to be his home for the next few weeks at least and he may as well settle in. Collecting the saddlebag containing his lyrium supply, he stashed the precious vials on a nearby shelf.

‘He sounds right again with the chains in place, but the music makes him sad.’

‘Maker’s Breath!’

Cullen spun round in a thrice, the rasp of his sword being drawn at speed vibrating through the air. He’d expected some type of nefarious magical attack, but not to hear a disembodied voice ghosting around his brain. As he sought out the culprit of the whispered rhyme, however, his mouth fell open.

‘Cole?’

‘Hello, Cullen. You’re really too blue, you know.’

Leaena’s companion was perched on top of an overstuffed armchair. Cole’s wide eyes gazed innocently at Cullen underneath the brim of his huge floppy hat, his ragged clothes unchanged from his usual garb at Skyhold. Seeing Cullen’s recognition he gave a beaming smile, waving for Cullen to come closer.

‘Blue?’ Cullen replied stupidly. ‘What? Damn, this is….what are you doing here, of all places?’

Cullen was in complete shock. The Spirit of Compassion was the last creature he’d expected to see in Minrathous. He couldn’t begin to fathom what Cole’s purpose was in revealing himself to Cullen.

‘Quick, I don’t have much time,’ Cole gestured urgently. ‘I’ve been following you, on and off. I couldn’t reveal myself in front of Vivienne. I’m too loud. Here, it’s so noisy no one will notice another spirit for a few minutes.’

‘Following me?’ Cullen was dumbstruck. ‘Why?’

‘To help you. The Inquisitor comes, Commander.’

Cullen hissed a sharp breath, a twin lance of pure fear and jubilant elation spiking his heart. ‘To Minrathous? Where is she?’

‘The Deep Roads.’ Cullen recoiled in horror at Cole’s blunt announcement. ‘But she’s fine. I had to leave her for a while. They wouldn’t let me in. But I wanted to let you know. You are not alone.’

‘Wouldn’t let you in….never mind.’ For a man who hated surprises, Cullen had been on the receiving end of too many that day. ‘She’s fine? You’re sure?’

‘Yes. So you must hurry, make a plan for when she gets here - soon. She’s coming for you, you know. I must go. They’re going to find me.’ Cole started to fade, his form becoming translucent in the light of the afternoon sun.

‘Wait!’ Cullen said urgently, praying Cole could still hear him. ‘You said you can see her? Please, tell her it’s her phylactery. It’s important! Vivienne cast a…..’

Cullen’s words fizzled out, Cole vanishing as fast as he’d appeared. The only thing convincing Cullen he’d not just hallucinated the whole experience was the residual hum of the Fade resonating with his lyrium. The room was empty once more as he looked wildly around, dust particles dancing in the sun’s rays the only thing out of place in the otherwise pristine space. Drained by the events of the day he collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath as his world spun.

_The Deep Roads!_

_With who? And why…_

‘Oh Maker, guide her, my precious lady….,’ he groaned aloud, his heart practically leaping out of his chest in panic. ‘Cole said she was fine – I must believe! I must have faith!’

He wasn’t in the least surprised to discover Leaena had followed him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Vivienne would be headed. What had rocked him to the core was the route she’d chosen – quite possibly the most dangerous location to travel in Thedas. And he thought he’d had it tough. His glorious Inquisitor had faced down Maker knew what in that pit of hell, all to save his sorry hide.

Who she was with, how she’d manage to survive in the face of unlimited darkspawn, not to mention her exposure to the Blight once more – these and a thousand more questions rocketed through his mind. It was a futile effort to make sense of the torture he and Leaena had been subjected to. After everything they’d overcome – the Fade, the Shrine of Dumat, the red lyrium, Samson, Corypheus himself – to have victory snatched from his grasp by one scheming, malevolent bitch was the outside of enough.

‘Many are those who wander in sin,  
Despairing that they are lost forever,  
But the one who repents, who has faith  
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,  
And boasts not, nor gloats,’

The faith he’d called into question this entire journey was, again, being pushed to its limits. Yet, as ever, Cullen had little else but his faith to guide him. His trust in the Maker had never come into question more than this long journey north. He’d been tested one too many times for blind obedience to the Chantry to offer him succour any longer. Without faith, however, he’d have fallen apart a long time ago. His belief, that he and Leaena could win through despite insurmountable odds, was all that kept him alive on cold, bleak nights when despair came knocking.

_I promised her I would never leave her again._

_Yet here we are, apart. My fault._

‘Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight  
In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know  
The peace of the Maker's benediction.’

Never had his situation been more desperate. Leaena’s life hung in the balance, a fragile shard of glass all that prevented her from dying an ignominious death. He had no idea if his warning to Cole was received in time. He was left as her sole protector still, the one means of ensuring she didn’t succumb to Vivienne’s warped hatred.

The heartfelt prayer wasn’t for him. It was for his beloved wife, who’d given her very soul to his safekeeping. Cullen could only put his trust into the Maker's hands, to guide them both to freedom. His head hung down, his eyes closed, the rhythm of prayer a soothing balm to the turmoil pumping through his blood.

Eventually he stopped, rising slowly to his knees. He was calmer and resolute, the exhilaration of knowing Leaena was on her way – undetected by Vivienne, no less – worthy of celebration.

‘I’d better get ready if you’re going to arrive soon, my lady.’ He couldn’t quite believe she was really going to be here. ‘The best thinking is done with a blade in your hand, so a wise lady once advised me. Let me go and put her advice into practice.’

He left the cloying confines of his room with relief, gesturing to the footman waiting beyond the door to lead the way. His steps were determined, Cullen’s confidence growing with every second that passed. Earlier that day, he’d rediscovered hope. Such a positive emotion had been a distant companion these long months apart from Leaena, but in light of Cole’s brief visit, its flame was now resurgent.

_There will be a way, my love. Have faith. We will find a solution to this, together._

_And then, this time, I will take you home. For good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you know, I love to involve my friends' Inquisitors and OCs in the fic and Lars is no different! Lars Trevelyan belongs to the wonderful Gerry Arthur who has done the beautiful artwork for Cullen and Lea's story. You can find Gerry's stunning picture of his Inquisitor at[DeviantArt](http://gerryarthur.deviantart.com/art/Spoiler-Inquisitorialness-560067738).


	14. Beyond Temptation

‘Dearest Inquisitor.’ A sickeningly honeyed voice purred in her ear. ‘What a pleasure it is to see you in my domain. What can I tempt you with today, I wonder?’

‘....what….not more of this shit?’

Lea blinked then swore. If the hum of the Fade never disrupted her sleep again it would be too soon. She was presented with a scene from an exotic boudoir thick with incense, replicated from some unknown land. Silken crimson drapes and luxurious furnishings were scattered around the room, an enormous bed framed in gold dominating the space. Lea, in her usual faded black leather armour, was sorely out of place.

Lounging indolently on the sheets was a desire demon. Its spiral horns and sensual body were slathered in priceless gems, some floaty material providing a semblance of modesty. With a languid stretch the creature rose, hips and uncovered breasts gently swaying in practised seduction. The delicate shade of violet skin was breathtakingly beautiful in an otherworldly fashion, the whole scene designed to entrap and ensnare the most vulnerable.

Which she was most emphatically not. The entrancing vision was wasted on Lea, glaring in fury at the demon before her for disrupting her sleep.

‘Cullen didn’t fall for it and neither shall I. Your whore’s tricks and this… _domain_ really aren’t up to much.’ Lea folded her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, unmoved by the opulence of her surroundings. ‘Cullen won’t be impressed with displays of grandeur, you know. But then again, how can a desire demon understand the subtleties of human nature? Seeing as you aren’t, you know, human? Not for the want of trying, of course.’

‘Try me,’ the demon hissed, the conjured carnal world abruptly vanishing. Instead, raw lyrium glowed eerily in the dark, the bare rock and pale green of the Fade’s true nature revealed. ‘Don’t think I can’t tempt you, Leaena Trevelyan. Feeding off one human is much the same as another, after all.’

In a flash the demon was gone, the world shifting again. The cottage by the sea in Ostwick flickered into life, wind teasing her hair and the salt water tang heavy in the air. Lea was almost driven to her knees by the man in front of her. Bright sunlight caught the golden highlights of his curls, his tall, powerful frame turned seaward to admire the view. At her low cry of distress, Cullen turned, the slight smile on his lips lifted in delight as he caught sight of her. Lea couldn’t help herself, greedily drinking in every last detail. The demon had captured him perfectly, from the slight dimple in his chin to the fingers on his right hand idly fiddling with the hilt of his sword. Her breath came in short gasps, wave after wave of agony hitting her squarely in the chest as she unwillingly dragged her gaze upwards.

‘Not a bad attempt,’ Lea ground out, refusing to buckle to the desolation gripping her. ‘There’s one thing you need to work on, however.’

‘For you, anything. You only need ask.’ The toffee whiskey voice was beautiful, resonating above the roaring in her ears. ‘My heart and sword are yours to command.’

Lea had been apart from Cullen for too long. It was becoming increasingly difficult to believe it wasn’t Cullen standing before her, Lea’s feet beginning to edge forward of their own accord. She was desperate to touch him, no matter the rational voice in her mind yelling at her to stay put. The caress of his lips on hers, his breath grazing her neck in the spot right where he liked to tease her to distraction, to lose herself in the taste of his mouth – if she had the briefest of kisses, then she’d know for sure.

_What harm can there be?_

_Just one kiss, that’s all I ask…._

She took a hesitant step forward then another, preparing to launch herself into the strong arms spreading open to embrace her. Her gaze raked over his muscles rippling underneath the loose cotton shirt, her mouth drying as she remembered just how good it felt to have him pressed hard up against her own body. Lea’s breath caught as she lurched forwards once more, her own arms slowly raising to hold him close. She was nearly there, the light rise and fall of his chest barely visible as his breaths became more rapid, Cullen too unable to hide his own reaction upon seeing her once more.

‘I missed you, oh Maker, why did you –‘

_Well, it was almost there._

_Not quite perfect enough, just as I thought._

‘What’s happened, Leaena?’ Cullen broke off, confused as Lea backed away in revulsion. ‘Why won’t you come near me? Please, don’t shut me off. Not when we’re so close…’

‘If you never listen you won’t learn. Do they teach you nothing at demon school?’ Lea’s magic had spun outwards, crying out for her cobalt mate. Only to be crushingly disappointed at the emptiness within. ‘I know Cullen even better than you do, you filthy creature. Right down to every last detail. This is not him.’

She allowed herself a look directly beyond Cullen-demon’s eyes, shuddering at what confronted her. Where there should have been love and life radiating from their golden amber hue, there was instead a blank, empty stare so typical of all demons. Cullen would never look at her with such disinterest, lacking in any empathy or emotion.

His protective blue presence was nowhere to be found. That one detail was how, time and time again, she’d caught the demon out during her interminable journey north. Lea had, thus far, managed to repel the demon’s numerous attempts at possession. The wretched creature knew just where to twist the knife, Lea reeling even now from this one glimpse of Cullen alone.

Her beautiful Commander and the haven of Ostwick vanished in an instant, replaced by one furious demon and the cold buzz of the Fade.

‘Fine,’ the creature spat out in a rage, stalking round Lea in circles. ‘Mark my words though, Inquisitor. Such foolishness will be your undoing.’

‘So you keep insisting,’ Lea retorted angrily, refusing to be cowed by half-truths. ‘Yet you have yet to offer me a compelling reason as to why I should take advice from a Fade-induced nightmare not of my making! I may have one foot in the madhouse, but I can assure you that I’m not so far gone as to deal with a desire demon. One with an unhealthy obsession at that. Do you not recall Imshael’s fate?’

_Oh, hang on._

_This is new._

The demon had repeated the same pattern in Lea’s dreams ever since she’d awoken to find Cullen vanished. Lea never knew when she’d be pulled into the Fade, the attacks occurring at random times and places. It had been over a week since her last visitation yet she knew that it would be too much to hope for the demon to have given up its chase. It was normally at this point where the demon would begin to hurl insults, Lea steadily building the green fire in her left palm to propel herself out of the Fade.

Both of them were hunting Cullen, she in reality and the creature in the Fade. Everyone around her would have been horrified to know she was consorting with a demon instead of killing it outright. She couldn’t, not yet at least. Lea had few options in her fight to beat Vivienne at her own game. She was determined to tease out any information possible. The demon too was searching, but so far, Lea’s probing had yielded nothing of concrete use. That the demon could no longer hound Cullen was one bonus in the otherwise desperate gamble Lea had pursued.

Tonight, though, the demon was different.

‘Imshael was an old fool, a creation from a time that no longer holds meaning.’ The demon gestured irritably, then stared intently at Lea. ‘He also didn’t have anything worth trading. What would you give, Inquisitor, to know of the spell which binds you to Madame de Fer?’

‘Give?’ The demon had never been this direct before, Lea faltering momentarily to respond to its demand.

‘Nothing. I will never let you possess Cullen, which is all you’re after in the long run. No matter what false promises you may make in the short term.’

‘You are blind. Waltzing into Tevinter and a trap of your own making.’ The demon smiled coldly. ‘I can help you. I ask for nothing in return.’

‘Seriously?’ Lea was hard pushed not to slap the smirk from the demon’s face. ‘You really must think I’m stupid. Get the fuck out of my head, you vile creature!’

‘It’s true.’ The demon shrugged, enjoying having stirred Lea’s temper. ‘He still has not confessed to you the whole, has he? It matters not. You will never understand what passed between Cullen and me during the carnage Uldred wreaked on the Circle. I live in his mind, Inquisitor, in a way which you can never begin to comprehend. You can’t even make sense of that connection you share, can you? Of course not.’

Nausea swamped Lea, to have the blatant reminder of Cullen’s torture flaunted before her. Lea’s fingers were itching to hurl an ice bolt at the presumptive monster. Here stood Cullen’s torturer and abuser, a major contributor to his sleepless nights and crippling insecurities. The only thing staying her hand was the invisible chain linking the malevolent spirit to her Commander, Lea reluctant to act until Cullen’s safety was ensured.

‘In our own way, we are bonded, as much as you are to him,’ the demon continued, all too aware of Lea’s internal conflict. ‘I have my own reasons for wishing him to live, and unfortunately there’s only you to reach him in time. He is blocked to me.’

‘So it isn’t just the lyrium.’ Lea took vindictive pleasure out of the demon’s sudden impotent rage. ‘Vivienne get the better of you too, did she?’

‘We are more alike than you care to admit, Inquisitor.’ The demon leant in close, its sweet yet noxious breath right in her face causing Lea to gag involuntarily. ‘Both of us bound to the same soul, both of us dependent on Cullen for our own survival. Sisters, almost.’

‘Fuck you and fuck your warped notion of sisterhood.’ Lea was defiant, refusing to cave into the forbidden temptation. ‘It is past time this conversation ended.’

‘You weary of my company? How very predictable.’ The demon smiled, stepping away as it blurred back into the Fade. ‘Know this though, Inquisitor. Vivienne has cast a powerful and ancient magic over your spirit. Do not be too quick to dismiss blood magic as the root cause.’

The demon began to disappear, Lea forcibly pushing herself out of from the world beyond the Veil before she was coerced any further. Her patience, never in plentiful supply at the best of times, snapped. She would learn nothing new from the Fade tonight. Gathering energy around her, she raised a hand blazing green fire, a single glaring lance wiping the image of the demon from her mind and catapulting her out of sleep.

_I staked my claim on the Commander well before you. Never forget that._

_Until we next meet, Inquisitor._

With a gasp Lea sat bolt upright from her bedroll, her breath rasping loudly in the quiet of the night. She hugged her middle tightly, unable to ward off the icy chill gripping her abdomen. Her chest was hollow, aching with fear for Cullen. The demon knew where best to hit her hard, the visions of Cullen almost too overwhelming for Lea to withstand. She drew out one shuddering breath after another, grateful for the darkness hiding her utter wretchedness. Her body shook with the remembered chill from the Fade.

Slowly, she recovered, Lea huddled up in a ball until she trusted herself to move. The demon’s words replayed over and over, Lea unsure whether to feel regret at not probing further or relief for holding out against such enticing lures. She scrubbed at her eyes with balled fists, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep and straightening the leather armour she’d slept in. Propping herself up on the back of the bed, Lea rested her chin against her knees to consider what she’d learnt in the Fade.

The demon lusted after the very fabric of Cullen’s being, thwarted all those years ago back in Kinloch Hold. For some inexplicable reason it refused to relinquish its claim as most demons would. Forged in the horror of violence of Kinloch Hold’s maleficar uprising, a malignant bond had somehow taken form. Even though Cullen had successfully resisted, it was apparent that the demon hadn’t given up. To what extent it could invade his dreams and what was lyruim-induced, Lea had no idea. Now the dratted thing was stalking her in an attempt to reach Cullen. Nothing it said could be trusted.

_Although…_

_For a demon, it was remarkably direct this evening._

If she was to be hounded, she wanted to reap some benefit in return, turn the tables on the creature’s fixation on Cullen.

Lea’s curiosity had been spiked by its offer to reveal just how Vivienne was manipulating her Commander. Not so much so that she was tempted to make a bargain she’d regret, of course. If she took its words at face value, Vivienne was using some form of blood magic to coerce Cullen to do her bidding, a fact Lea had already guessed at courtesy of Varric’s deductions. The demon merely confirmed the obvious.

‘Bad dream?’

Startled out of her reverie, Lea turned to face Alistair, lounging in the doorway. His Warden armour glinted blue and silver in the dull light of the brazier in the hall. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, he’d stood watch far longer than they’d agreed. Deciding against a lecture Lea gestured for him to come and join her, Alistair settling himself at the other end of the rickety bed.

‘Not exactly bad,’ Lea replied evasively, unwilling to reveal just how far she’d go to secure Cullen’s safe release. ‘Since I inherited this green magic it’s been easy for me to slip into the Fade when I’m asleep and remain lucid.’

‘You and your friend Solas share many similarities,’ Alistair resisted the urge to deliver her a speech she’d merely scoff at. ‘He was a dreamer was he not?’

‘Cadan briefed you well.’ Solas’ disappearance had affected her deeply, the pain of abandonment by those she loved never far from the surface. ‘Solas explored Thedas from the Fade. If he ever comes back, you should ask him for a history lesson.’

Alistair’s shudder made her chuckle, her morose mood lifting slightly. ‘Maker preserve me, no thank you very much. Do you know how much historical record I’ve had to memorise since becoming King? I could thrill you with the detail of the bloodline of every single noble family in Ferelden and Orlais if you want to go back to sleep.’

‘I’m wide awake now, but thank you for the generous offer.’ She looked across at him, hoping to have deflected his attention. ‘If I ever need advice on Thedas’ pageantry I know where to come.’

‘I’m flattered you think so, Inquisitor. Now,’ Alistair looked firmly at her. ‘Why were you roaming the Fade in your sleep? I heard you talking. Are you going to tell me the truth, or do I have to wrestle it out of you?’

Lea chuckled softly. Only a couple of years ago she’d have given anything to have the King of Ferelden make good his promise of a wrestling match. Her foolish self would have jumped at the opportunity, no matter the spectacle she’d have made. Now – especially after his surprising revelations in the Deep Roads, she could parry back in kind, her heart intact.

‘Wrestle me, Alistair? Are you sure you want to put me to the test?’ A ghost of a smile crossed her face. ‘I bested Cullen, you know. He gave me no quarter and still I came out on top. What makes you so confident that you’ll win?’

‘I’m not interested in your and Cullen’s peccadillos, thank you very much,’ was his prim reply, to which Lea rapped him playfully on the arm. ‘Ow! We haven’t even agreed terms of engagement yet and here you are taking advantage of my good nature!’

‘Ow? Really?’ Her low laughter faded. ‘I know you wouldn’t cry wolf. We’ve been through too much together.’

‘Eight years, to be precise.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘The day I first saw you is firmly etched on my memory.’

‘I tripped over my robes,’ Lea complained in mock protest. ‘Do you think it was my intention to literally fall at the feet of the King of Ferelden? I looked an utter fright right in front of the whole of Denerim’s Circle!’

‘It wasn’t quite that bad,’ Alistair admonished. ‘I picked you up didn’t I?’

‘Ever the knight, even if you did reject the Templar Order for the Wardens.’ Nostalgia drifted through her at the memory of a simpler time. ‘And you were so kind about my faux pas.’

‘How did you – holy Maker, Lea, your hands are ice!’ Alistair grabbed hold of her cloak from the bedrail. ‘Come here and wrap this around you. No more distractions either – there’s clearly something on your mind. Tell me. Together we can figure out a solution.’

Lea scooted up to lean against Alistair’s warmth, pulling her cloak tight around her shoulders. The chill from the Fade had yet to leave, both inside and out. She chewed her lip anxiously, weighing up how much she could safely share without revealing the depth of her discussions with a demon.

Her gaze flickered over the cramped quarters she’d been assigned. ‘It’s cold here isn’t it. I thought the Deep Roads would be bad enough. I’ll be glad to escape this living tomb soon.’

They were still underground, reluctant guests of the dwarves at Kal-Sharok. The meeting had gone better than Lea feared. Even in this isolated spot the Inquisition’s fame had spread. They’d hidden Alistair’s identity, easily achieved with a change in armour removing any indication of the Grey Warden insignia. Lea had kept her hands in her pockets and retreated deep into the blackness of her hood. Cadan negotiated on her behalf, her silver-tongued twin an expert in manoeuvring complex situations to his own liking. Combined with Dorian lending his family’s weight to the parley, it ensured them safe passage at least, if not a rapturous welcome.

None of them had wished to linger with the strange dwarves, there being something thoroughly unsettling about the nature of this offshoot of Ozamaar’s brethren. The feelings were evidently reciprocated, their small party rapidly escorted to a stopover point close to the surface without entering Kal-Sharok directly. She and Alistair remained firmly in the background, allowing the rest of the group to do most of the talking. Information was subsequently relayed down the waystations back to Josephine, Lea trusting in her Ambassador to establish the necessary relations.

Lea and her companions were mere metres from the sky. The only thing preventing them from charging overground at the first instant was their utter exhaustion. Much though it grated on Lea to do so, Cullen had to wait another day while they gathered their energy.

‘The dwarves here are different, aren’t they?’ Alistair sounded fascinated and repulsed. ‘The Blight has clearly affected them, to the point where they resemble walking corpses.’

‘So gruesome, my liege. You sound like a bad horror novel.’ Cadan materialised from the dark, Lea waving him in. ‘I heard you talking down the hall. Maker, I couldn’t wait to wake up. I’m amazed I got any sleep whatsoever in this bizarre place.’

‘It can’t be too long till daybreak.’ Lea felt her impatience rise, eager to be on the road. ‘When the others appear, we’ll get out of here. The human runner who connects the dwarves to the surface should be waiting for us with mounts ready.’

‘I’ve arranged for a message to go to Magister Irian. He’ll be expecting us.’ Cadan decided against sitting, propping himself up against the wall. ‘Not long now, Lea. But my apologies, I interrupted your conversation.’ He gave Lea a searching look, immediately able to sense her unease. ‘Out with it, sister. You’ve been in the Fade and I want to know why.’

Lea sighed, wrapping her arms tight to her chest in an unconscious gesture to ward off the demon’s evil. ‘It’s….complicated. Alistair, what did Cullen tell you of the desire demon at Kinloch Hold?’

‘Not much. Only that he’d had his innermost fantasies paraded before him in tantalising, unforgiving detail. We knew those all revolved around Freya.’ Alistair went silent, recalling a painful topic. ‘He was trapped in there for weeks, Lea. Tortured by the foul fiend with Maker only knows what. That changes a man forever. How he withstood its poison is a testament to Cullen’s strength of character. Freya to this day has never forgiven herself for not opting to travel to the Circle sooner. I wish we’d done more – if we’d only known – ‘.

‘It wasn’t her fault, nor yours.’ Lea shook her head, resting her palm over Alistair’s hand. ‘We do what we must in times of war. Imagine if you’d gone even later in your campaign. There might have been no Cullen left to save. I’m profoundly grateful you took the action you did.’

‘Why do you ask, Lea?’ Cadan’s fingers had found the hilt of his dagger. Idly he tossed the blade in the air as was his wont when deep in thought. ‘Although I’m not sure I’m going to like your answer.’

‘Cullen – ‘. Lea had no idea how to explain the unexplainable. ‘The demon from Kinloch Hold. You never killed it, did you? It stalks him still in his nightmares. He can never tell when it’s the demon or when it’s the lyrium withdrawal, the two are so familiar. Now…..now the demon has found me instead.’

‘What!’ Cadan’s dagger planted itself in the opposite wall. ‘Lea, you’re consorting with demons in your head again? Corypheus and Imshael weren’t lesson enough?’

‘Wait,’ Alistair ordered, Cadan reducing his outburst to a silent simmer. ‘I’m just as concerned as you, but Lea must have her reasons.’

‘Sorry,’ Cadan muttered, retrieving the knife with a vicious yank out of the offending mortar. ‘Hang on though. I think Varric and Dorian need to hear this. Give me two minutes.’

It was the reaction she’d been expecting, but Lea was still stung by the lack of faith her own twin had demonstrated. She couldn’t blame him, especially after what he’d witnessed at the Shrine of Dumat, but she’d still hoped for a fair hearing rather than instant condemnation.

Alistair pulled Lea towards him for a reassuring hug. ‘He’s worried, Lea. Don’t judge his reaction too quickly.’

‘Thank you, for standing up for me,’ she replied shakily, already determined to keep the discussion to the bare minimum. ‘He’s overprotective and guilty. It’s a dangerous combination.’

‘Your brothers need to allow you to stand on your own two feet. Better?’ Alistair helped Lea sit upright, readjusting her cloak over her shoulders. ‘Trystan has finally let go thanks to Cassandra, but Cadan has a fair amount of remorse to exorcise still. Give him some time. This trip should help.’

‘I’m sorry about him and Josie. I’d wished…..’ Lea gave a rueful smile, distractedly pleating the blanket with her nail. ‘Is it wrong that I just want everyone to have a happy ending? I am a hopeless romantic at the end of the day. I can’t imagine Cadan ever leaving your service and I understand Josie’s reservations. Neither of them have met that one person they’d move heaven and earth for. Unlike you and me.’

‘Hmm. Falling in love is a distraction from us overbearing males annoying you, is that what you’re driving at?’ Alistair laughed aloud, Lea absurdly pleased to hear humour after her hideous night. ‘Maker save me, you’re the most terrifyingly capable woman I’ve ever met. Aside from Freya of course. Cadan felt he should have been there for you far more, instead of running around pretending to be a pirate. Your parents deliberately encouraged Trystan and Cadan to be your protectors, fearful of what you’d experience in the Circle. Give him a chance to un-condition himself. Speaking of which, has Cullen ever met your parents?’

‘My parents?’ Lea thought of her father and mother with a small wrench of her heart. ‘No. There hasn’t been the opportunity but I will take him to meet them. Cullen is intimidated by my background – Maker knows why. He also believes the same as you, that they were trying to control too much about our lives. But you know what we face, Alistair. Noble children have expectations to fulfil, for the betterment of the family name and reputation. Cadan rebelled against it, the only one of us to do so. Rightly so. He has nothing to be ashamed of. If it weren’t for Cadan I wouldn’t now be following the path I am. Cullen comes first. Duty can go hang.’

‘Cullen will charm your parents. Once he’s met them he’ll realise how silly he’s been.’ Alistair was thoughtful, nodding his head in agreement. ‘You’re right, of course. I waited too long. A crown on my head by twenty, stuffed full of lofty ideals. The nonsense I spouted to Freya about being a king and doing my duty! I had a point to prove, that a bastard son could do a better job than Anora, that the Theirin line wasn’t littered with wastrels and would-be heroes without a clue. The one sensible thing I did was keep Freya by my side. It felt dirty and wrong, to have the woman I love and respect as my mistress, but at the time I believed it to be the only option available. My bitter regret is not flying in the face of tradition and marrying her. What’s the point in being king if I can’t tell people to get stuffed?  Actually, make that two regrets. I should have gone with her when she left on her quest.’

‘You’re a fine king and partner, and you have nothing to regret,’ Lea reassured him earnestly. ‘We’ll find her, Alistair, and bring her home. I’ll be damned if I’m not bridesmaid at your wedding.’

‘Who’s getting married!’ Dorian burst into her room, closely followed by Varric and Cadan. ‘I love a good party. It’s been far too long since we had anything to celebrate.’

‘No one at the moment, so you can relax. You’ll be the first to receive an invite if a wedding does take place.’ Lea cut off that painful conversation, shuffling over to make room for Varric. ‘Can we set off yet? Is it daybreak?’

‘Just another hour then we’ll breathe the sweet air of Tevinter,’ Cadan promised, fixing her with a stern look. ‘Much though I’d love to gossip over the latest romance, time is short and you owe us some answers.’

‘Yeah, Frosty. Cadan mentioned that you’d been in the Fade again.’ Varric sounded worried. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

Lea didn’t answer straight away, searching for the right words to explain without betraying just how far she’d sunk in her desperation for knowledge.

‘When I defeated Corypheus, I was dragged into the Fade. Vivienne triggered a trap for me, one she’d set up with Corypheus and Imshael. Damn that bitch for being so organised.’ They all nodded, aware of this information. ‘During the month I was out for, I was visited. By a desire demon wanting to form an alliance. I chased it away – yes, I am aware of how dangerous that could have been. Tonight, it came to me again and let slip that Vivienne has bound me with blood magic. That’s not new information and I’m sceptical as to how much to believe, but it does confirm what we suspect.’

She pressed her lips shut, refusing to elaborate any further nor delve into just how often the demon had dragged her into the Fade. Her companions could never guess the full extent of the toxic promises the demon whispered.

_Nor how close I came to succumbing tonight._

_He was so close…he is so close, yet still so far._

‘You sure that’s it?’ Dorian was assessing her with a look that made Lea want to squirm. ‘This is the same demon who tortured Cullen in Kinloch Hold? And is now following you?’

‘The demon says her way to Cullen is blocked. Vivienne has done some manipulation to prevent his signature being tracked in the Fade,’ Lea confirmed, sidetracking the line of questioning away from her. ‘I haven’t gone looking for him there, in case of such a trap, but it makes sense.’

‘It mentioned blood magic was practiced on you,’ Dorian pressed, clearly unsatisfied with Lea’s explanation. ‘What price will you have to pay in return for such critical information?’

‘None. I refused to cooperate. As I left the Fade, it whispered that Vivienne had practiced some ancient and dark ritual and I should not dismiss blood magic as the root cause. Then I woke up. That’s all that happened.’

It was partly the truth. Lea had certainly not entered into any kind of bargain. She also refused to divulge the perfection the demon had taunted her with, her fists clenching against the pain as Cullen’s beautiful face flashed across her vision.

‘So we were right. Some nefarious magic shit has been cast on you.’ Varric looked at Dorian questioningly. ‘What kind of spell would put Frosty’s life at risk? Cullen wouldn’t leave for anything less so it has to be that serious.’

‘With blood magic? The possibilities are endless. You’re right though. I’d have to do some digging round. Not all of us mages practice blood magic so I’m hardly an expert. Maevaris will have some ideas I’m sure, as will my parents. Leave it with me.’

‘Good.’ Cadan looked satisfied, Lea praying the conversation would turn away from her own involvement with the demon. ‘Can we help at all, speed up the process?’

‘Doubtful.’ Dorian raised a hand in dismissal. ‘It’s better I look into the nature of such a spell on my own. Lea, you’ll have to remain out of sight until I have more details. It won’t be safe for you and Alistair to meet the Archon till we establish what has you ensnared.’

Lea groaned aloud, despair and the ache from missing Cullen overwhelming her. ‘I’m not hiding, nor staying here! There has to be another option.’

‘My dearest Inquisitor!’ Dorian dramatically clasped a fist to his chest. ‘I’m wounded. What do you take me for? It will take me no longer than a few days to ferret out the answer. Irian has the most splendid mansion. Why not just allow yourself to be pampered for the time being?’

‘Sounds ideal to me. Don’t fret, Lea.’ Cadan knelt before her, accurately guessing the real reason for her sadness. ‘Just think. In a few hours you’ll sense Cullen again, and he you. You’ll both know the other is safe once more.’

‘You’re right.’ Lea blew out a long breath. Her magic was permanently searching for its cobalt partner, its lonely dance a spiral of agony in the centre of her being. ‘I – I guess I’m scared of that happening too. What if she finds a way to use it against us?’

Dorian’s condescending sneer went a long way to reassure Lea her fears were unfounded. ‘Vivienne knows of its existence – it’s hard for anyone with magical talent to miss such energy. Visually, it’s indistinguishable from your own aura. Furthermore, Vivienne never exerted herself to truly understand the nature of your bond, nor how significant its influence. Corypheus’ defeat is one example. No, out of all the crap being flung at us, that’s the least of your worries. Enjoy being reunited with him, as far as is possible for now.’

‘Very well.’ Alistair stood, preparing to issue orders. ‘We have the semblance of a plan, and we’ll talk further once we see this Magister. I believe it’s time we departed. Gather your gear, get those Tevinter cloaks on and let’s meet outside in five minutes.’

They all agreed, shuffling out of Lea’s room until she was alone. Her hands trembled as she buckled up her cloak and reached for her staff. Knowing that Cullen would be so close, yet so unreachable, would be a blissful torture she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand the pressure. Her need for him was so acute it was all she could do to not break under the pressure. Just as the demon intended.

_What he’s suffered for me….is suffering still._

_Will I ever be able to repay him?_

‘Maker, protect him. Guide his path with Your steady hand. Watch over him – please, I can’t….’ Lea broke off her desperate prayer, her eyes screwed shut and her fingers clenched round her staff. ‘I haven’t come all this fucking way to lose him. Not to her, not to a demon and certainly not to lyrium! If you…if you let him die, after all he’s given up in Your name, You and I will be done!’

Whether the Maker cared about Lea’s faith being rocked to their foundations remained to be seen. Her anguished declaration highlighted just how far she’d been driven from the devout young woman gracing Ostwick Circle’s Chantry every weekend. The hypocrisy of her former life wasn’t lost on her, Lea forced to examine her actions and her beliefs in minute detail since Cullen had so bravely confessed his past.

Still, now was not the time to ponder her crisis of faith. The demon’s visit bolstered her resolve to win, to vanquish for once and for all her own insecurities. Cullen didn’t need her weeping and broken. He needed her confident, fighting fit and ready to take on the world.

She straightened, drawing herself to her full height and lifting her chin high. No, Leaena Trevelyan was no longer the bullied mage Vivienne had been intent on exploiting. She’d been reforged in fire and the chaos of war. As a result she’d emerged a stronger person, ready to take on the Old Gods themselves if necessary.

‘And she doesn’t know.’ A slow smile of anticipation curved her lips. ‘She doesn’t have a fucking clue that I’m a day’s ride away. Oh, I am so ready. Bring it on, bitch.’

With a toss of her braid over her shoulder Lea grabbed her pack and strode outside, beyond ready to confront the might of the Imperium.

\------

‘Are we nearly there yet? I’m so over this shit.’

‘Fuck it, Varric, why must you always whine like a plaintive child whenever we head somewhere you don’t want to go?’ Cadan’s harsh comment was tempered by the grin he threw at the disgruntled dwarf. ‘What’s there to complain about? We’re outside, the sun is shining, we’re no more than an hour away from Minrathous, and we know Cullen is alive. Beer and a bath, my friend, and a long round of Wicked Grace await us in the immediate future.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Varric grumbled, slouched low on his horse. ‘I just had no wish to ever set foot in Tevinter. No offense, Dorian, but your home country reeks a bit too much of dark magic for a dwarf to be comfortable. ‘

‘None taken, dear fellow.’ Dorian, far from being relaxed, was becoming tenser the closer they approached the city. ‘Dark magic is nothing. Just wait till you witness the corruption! Nowhere is fraud, bribery and dishonesty more celebrated than in Minrathous. They’ll adore you.’

Their end destination was very much on everyone’s minds, particularly as the fabled towers with the arching bridge were now visible in the distance. The heat of the day warped the view, hot air rising under the sun’s glaring rays. The snow-capped mountains of the High Reaches loomed to Lea’s left, the sparkling azure of the Nocen Sea to her right a welcome respite from the dusty plains rolling before her.

It had been a blessed relief to lift her face to the sky, just for a moment, and absorb the sunlight onto her skin. She’d been giddy with jubilation when they’d stepped out of the cave’s entrance. Despite the danger, they’d made it through the most hazardous journey of their lives intact, witnessed the rebirth of a Titan and established tentative links with a dwarven house the world had left for dead. Vivienne’s machinations were unravelling and Lea now had a very good idea of the challenge which still lay before her.  

Most importantly, however, was the promise of Cullen’s sprit soon to be reunited with her own. Her longing for him was an agonising clamour in every beat of her heart, Lea sometimes oblivious to anything aside from the crushing fear and desolation caused by their enforced separation. She knew she’d have to bide her time before she’d be able to see him in the flesh, Lea unwilling to expose her hand too soon. It would be exquisite torment, to have Cullen so near yet so far.

_I would wait forever for you, my love. I promise you this._

_It will be enough, to have you reside in my soul once more._

Arid air seared her lungs as she took a deep breath to compose herself. She adjusted the heavy Tevinter hood masking her features, looking across at the similarly-garbed King of Ferelden to check he was still comfortable in the oppressive temperatures. The slight frown on Alistair’s brow indicated his mind was clearly elsewhere. ‘I trust the cooling spell is doing its job. How are you?’

‘Your spell works like a charm, but that’s not what’s on my mind.’ He pointed to the ugly garb they were shrouded in. ‘It was a good move on Cadan’s part, to negotiate local clothing for us to wear. We look like any other traveller on this road, although I’m amazed that they wander around with so many clothes on in this Blighted weather. A group of armed fighters from southern Thedas suddenly appearing at the door of Kal-Sharok is bound to garner interest. Word will get out sooner rather than later, so let’s hope the dwarves don’t spread news of our arrival too quickly. They have an uneasy relationship with Tevinter from what I gather so we should be fine for a week or so.’

Alistair hesitated, looking across at an increasingly brittle Dorian. ‘We’ll manage. And don’t worry about me.’

Lea cast a concerned glance at her fellow mage. It wasn’t unheard of for Dorian to be so acerbic towards the many failings of his home country. What was unusual, however, was the hard edge underlying his sarcastic drawl. The closer they moved to Minrathous, the more his tension grew.

‘You’re right,’ she said under her breath so only Alistair could hear. ‘Dorian – he’s, well….it’s not exactly straightforward. Let me deal with it.’

Alistair nodded in silent agreement, pushing his horse ahead to give her space.  Dust rose off the Imperial Highway, Lea glancing once more that the huge city sprawl on the horizon. It wasn’t just her and Cullen’s fates hanging in the balance. Dorian’s future was at stake – nay, the future of an entire nation. If he couldn’t ignite the spark of change in a country hidebound to tradition, Lea couldn’t guess at the impact that would have on her friend. Here walked a man who’d become increasingly isolated the more he’d railed at the system controlling his life. It was Lea’s responsibility to support him and ensure Dorian could be heard above the petty squabbles and power plays that passed for everyday life in Tevinter.

‘Come here, Dorian,’ Lea ordered, motioning for the rest to move ahead and give them some privacy. ‘There are some matters I would discuss with you.’

‘How can I refuse such a charming offer?’ Lea wasn’t fooled by Dorian’s flippancy, nudging his horse alongside hers as they trotted slowly along the Imperial highway. ‘I am yours to command, Inquisitor. Fire away.’

‘I didn’t invite you over to appreciate your many charms, my dear Altus, bountiful though they are.’ Lea mentally gritted her teeth, deciding to plunge into a difficult conversation she’d deliberately delayed. ‘We’re nearly at Minrathous, a place you swore once upon a time never to return to. Yet the Inquisition has changed you, for the better I believe. You have resolve and purpose – and a confidence that was at first lacking. I know you want to save your country from imploding. Such dedication has cost you your relationship with Bull, who you still care for deeply. I also know you won’t compromise who you are, nor live your life pretending to be someone you aren’t. This discord within you is tearing you apart, and I would be no friend if I didn’t offer to help.’

Lea paused, watching the impact of her little speech sink in. Dorian fell uncharacteristically quiet, his grip on the reins tightening as he fought with an internal conflict that had dominated his entire life. She didn’t push him, instead letting their mounts plod onwards. The others were a good league ahead of them now, Lea in no hurry to catch up. She had to reach out to Dorian now, before they were sucked into the web of intrigue and danger that Minrathous represented.

‘You gave me a chance, to be an individual. No one has ever done that before.’ Dorian’s halting admission stripped away the flamboyant show he put on for the rest of the world. ‘For the first time, I could be the man – not the mage, not the Altus with a lineage traced back to the very dawn of humanity. I didn’t have to live in fear of being altered for nothing more than political gain and familial embarrassment. I joined the Inquisition to save Tevinter. I love my country, but now I am truly proud of who I am and what I represent.’

His emerald eyes held hers, a sardonic twist to his lips. ‘I would have taken great pleasure in flaunting my Qunari lover in front of the tight arses of the Magsterium, their pathetic prejudices be damned. Maker’s Breath, if that was all I had to contend with, we’d have found a way to make it work. But he never understood why I couldn’t walk away as he had done. He had to leave the Qun, to become the man he was destined to be. For me to achieve the same, I have to return to Tevinter. It was that fundamental lack of acceptance which drove us apart.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lea said quietly, her heart breaking for her courageous friend. ‘You are brave, Dorian, to have endured such hatred and injustice and still hold your head high. It takes a certain strength of character to fly in the face of tradition and confront intolerance and bigotry head on. If anyone can force the change that must happen, it’s you. I just wish it wouldn’t have come at the cost of your love.’

‘A part of me will always love Bull, don’t get me wrong. I have so much to thank him for showing me. That was my first true relationship with another man.’ Dorian paused, contemplating the lover he’d left behind. ‘But you needn’t shed any tears over my supposed broken heart. It became apparent way back in the Arbor Wilds that the gulf between us was too wide to be bridged. Honestly, I’m over it. Perhaps not to the extent where I can look back with a fond smile and no sting, but the hurt is so much less than before.’

‘Very well.’ Lea was content with his answers, not wishing to pry any further into a subject that still caused pain. ‘But what of your return? How do things stand with your family?’

‘I must face up to my responsibilities sooner rather than later. There have been several attempts on my father’s life and I would not leave him alone to face down such impertinence.’ The implicit threat of retribution in Dorian’s tone was not lost on Lea. ‘The rot in Tevinter sinks into every crevice of society. If I can’t fix it – with the help of those loyal to my cause – then the whole of Thedas will be torn apart.’

‘I am proud of you, Dorian. The Inquisition will be with you, every step of the way. For as long as we’re around, of course,’ she amended, her own end goal never far from her thoughts.

‘It’s true then,’ Dorian said softly, watching her with understanding. ‘You’d leave it all behind for love. My old self would have mocked you for revealing such a lowering weakness. My new self admires you for not being dictated to by circumstance and expectation.’

‘If I don’t stand up for my ideals, I’ll fail. We’re not so different in that regard, you and I.’ Lea smiled at Dorian’s astute assessment. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that love is the only thing worth fighting for. I believe true love conquers all. I sound like one of Cassandra’s dreadful poems, but it’s the truth. Love is what makes us grow, not hate. I learned the hard way. The more people who see me lead by example? Perhaps I won’t have done such a bad job as Inquisitor after all.’

‘Maybe you’re right. If we all stopped to stab each other in the back a little less, and sat down to listen a bit more often, many a war would have been averted.’ He paused to observe the black marble of the Archon’s Palace, now clearly in sight. ‘It’s not long now until we arrive. Are you ready?’

‘Are you?’ Lea flipped the question right back. ‘You’ll no longer be a part of the Inquisition once you set foot in Minrathous. You’ll once again be Dorian Pavus, Altus of House Pavus, Qarinus.’

‘So I will.’ Dorian’s face hardened as they reached the crux of the issue causing him such inner turmoil. ‘There were truths revealed to me at the Well of Sorrows which I must drive home to my fellow countrymen, one way or another. It is past time I guided the Magesterium onto a new path. Nor will I hide my true self ever again. You’ve set me a fine example to follow, Inquisitor. My way forward is clear. Even though it means we will part ways once you eventually depart for the south.’

‘I will miss you, Dorian.’ Lea refused to allow the silent tears to fall. This was a goodbye she’d been bracing herself against for weeks. It hurt, more than she’d expected, but she held her head high. ‘But equally, I’m in awe of everything you’ve accomplished. If anyone can do what needs to be done in the teeming pit of decay which is Tevinter, it’s you.’

‘Well of course you’ll miss me! How could anyone not, after all? I am the best mage in Thedas, not to mention the most handsome.’

Dorian’s lighthearted response lasted all of a second as his voice dropped, Lea all too suddenly aware of what was to come.

‘I am going to raise this now, as I have no idea when I can next speak to you privately. This self-harm you force onto yourself – it has to stop. Just so you know, cutting your palms and forearms to shreds and pulling your hair out is not normal behaviour. Maker knows what else you inflict on your body and brain in the name of maintaining that aloof mask. When we free him, you must tell Cullen. He can help you – reach you in a way I can’t. Promise me, Lea. If you don’t deal with this abuse you believe you need, it will kill you far more effectively than anything even Vivienne could conjure up.’

Mintrathous glittered in the hazy light of the afternoon, Lea finding it far easier to admire the astonishing display of architecture than acknowledge the truth in Dorian’s impassioned plea. Magnificent marble towers arched towards the heavens, the famous bridge spanning several kilometres across the ocean below. Her heart was racing, her mouth dry. The panic she felt, to lose her failsafe mechanism to hold herself in check, multiplied tenfold.

‘Lea. Look at me.’ Lea closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself. There was no condemnation in Dorian’s worried expression, only a wish to help her as she’d helped him. ‘I won’t be around to save you again. I haven’t spoken to Cullen or your brothers about this, because I wanted to see how far the damage ran, much to my regret. I wish I’d spoken sooner but I didn’t want to betray you. I can’t watch this mental abuse destroy you….’

Lea was saved having to answer by the appearance of a scout dressed in the livery of House Amalradis. She was smartly turned out in blue and gold, her horse of exceptional breeding. Evidently Magister Irian spared no expense when it came to showing off his influence. Dorian shot her one more meaningful look before heading forward to join Cadan in greeting the unexpected visitor.

‘This is the Inquisitor’s party, is it not?’ The woman bowed smartly at Cadan’s assertion. ‘I’ve been sent to escort you into the city, Lord Trevelyan. Not via the bridge, but through an underground road network. Less obtrusive and faster than fighting our way through the crowds. The entrance is but a mile away from our current location.’

‘We’ll speak again, Inquisitor.’ Dorian reluctantly turned to address the rest of the group. ‘This is legitimate, my friends. It would mean instant death should this scout masquerade in a Magister’s colours without being under their employ. The catacombs are linked to most of the major mansions in the Gilded Quarter. We can escape further detection this way.’

‘Underground? Again?’ Varric grunted in annoyance, dropping his head to his hands. ‘And here I was working on my tan.’

‘Let’s get a move on.’ Alistair had as much desire as Lea to linger on the Imperial Highway. ‘If you’re in agreement, Lea? This seems a sensible notion.’

‘Anything which gets me to our end destination faster and incognito.’ Lea somehow found the ability to speak, still rocked to the core from Dorian’s fervent request. ‘Cadan?’

‘It’s safer.’ Cadan cast a sharp eye out over the terrain, noting the location of various travellers strung out on the plains. ‘We’re on a relatively quiet stretch of road here – few will note our change of direction. I doubt Vivienne’s spy network is that well established yet. The more time we buy ourselves before announcing our presence the better.’

‘We can gallop, my lady. We must make haste if we are to reach Magister Irian by nightfall.’ The scout caught Lea’s nod of agreement and spurred her horse forward, away from the road and down a little-used trail.

It suited Lea to spring her horse to a full gallop. The wind whipped her cheeks and tore through her hair, the odious Tevinter cowl sliding away and freeing her from its suffocating confines. She raced ahead, her head low against her horse’s withers. Her eyes watered against the stinging dust, Lea intent on chasing the outrider leading the way.

_Anything rather than dwell on Dorian’s request._

She would not allow herself to think on his last words. It was enough of a wrench in her gut to acknowledge that Dorian would leave the Inquisition in a matter of hours. She tried to take comfort from his unassailable confidence, that they’d break Cullen free from Vivienne’s poisoned web. Brooding over the promise he’d wanted her to make opened a floodgate of emotion she simply wasn’t equipped to cope with.

It was easier to kick her horse’s flanks and ride, Lea throwing caution to one side and plunging recklessly forward to thunder along neck and neck with the scout. Her mad dash into the depths of the Tevinter countryside left her no room for anything aside from staying astride and pointing in the right direction. Lea pushed away Dorian’s earnest plea to the furthest reaches of her mind, not prepared to lend his request any credence. She simply couldn’t. Until Cullen was safe and they were back at Skyhold where they belonged, she had to stay focussed.

_Whatever it takes._

_We made that commitment to each other, did we not?_

She had no idea how much time had passed as they raced on, sending a whispered spell to all their mounts to keep them fresh. Her sole thought was to reach her end destination and sense Cullen’s protective warmth, to reassure herself that he wasn’t a mirage sent to her in a Fade-induced hallucination. Her magic was repeatedly dancing forwards, continually seeking out its cobalt mate. Lea had as much influence over its plaintive search as she did the passage of the moon. The anticipation and her nervousness were building, Lea refusing to accept defeat as an option.

The sun was low in the sky when the scout called a halt. The steady gallop of the last half-hour had the desired effect, Lea easily able to kid herself and dismiss Dorian’s unease as nothing more than misplaced anxiety. She had bigger concerns, such as sneaking into Thedas’ largest city unnoticed. She quickly dismounted, handing the reins over to another liveried servant who’d been awaiting their arrival. Lost in her own thoughts, she wandered away from the group, her mind replaying every single possible outcome and frantically searching for a solution to each one.

They were by a cliff edge, the crashing of waves on the rocks audible above the screeching of seagulls. Minrathous lay bathed in the orange sunset, all its splendour on show for them to admire. She allowed herself a moment to study the ancient foundations and fearsome defences. Lea had never dreamed of a time when entering Tevinter would be on her agenda, let alone visiting the capital itself. She thought she’d have felt more empathy with a place championing the mages’ cause. Several of her compatriots had fled to Tevinter during the war, convinced it to be a safe haven for magic users. Eyeing the imposing buildings, she felt nothing but an overwhelming indifference to the grandeur on display. Tevinter didn’t represent freedom. All those mages had done was swap one form of servitude for another.

‘Quite the sight, isn’t it?’ Varric came to stand next to her, clearly as unmoved by the view as she was. ‘They keep the elephants in pens down by the docks, near the barracks. Slaves are on the other side. The richer families live near the top of the city. Maker forbid they are inconvenienced by the sight of poverty and suffering.’

‘Don’t forget the blood magic.’ Lea’s chest constricted as another realisation dawned. ‘Vivienne must suffer for what she’s put him through. Can you imagine what it must have been like for Cullen, to have such foul practices shoved in his face at every turn? Literally? It’s what the place is built on, after all.’

‘I can’t imagine he was overly thrilled,’ Varric observed dryly. ‘Curly’s made of stern stuff, though. He’ll find a way to repay her in her own coin. We’ll get him, find out what happened to Alistair’s intended and get the fuck out of here. Sound like a plan?’

‘That is the most sensible thing I’ve heard anyone say all day.’ Lea’s mouth curled in icy disdain. ‘Let’s shift. Are we ready to set off?’

‘We are,’ Cadan called, motioning for them to join him at the tunnel’s entrance. ‘This entrance and the area surrounding it are warded against spies but I’d rather not take any chances.’

Lea needed no further encouragement. Glancing around quickly before climbing down the ladder, she saw the horses already a distance away, the whole area swept clean. In a trice she’d scaled the multiple rungs, her boots hitting sandy gravel as she climbed into the tunnel’s entrance. Cadan and Varric followed a split second later. In silence the small group padded downhill into the depths, Lea uncomfortably aware of the walls closing in on her the further they descended. The air was dank and musty, the granite walls covered in moisture and mould. Irregularly-placed braziers were their only source of light, the dim radiance barely enough for them to find their way.

‘I do not want to think about how they bored holes under a fucking ocean,’ Varric muttered in disgust. ‘No way you’d get the whole city out through one of these. Just for the noble fuckers. Same shit the world over.’

‘It won’t be too much longer. We’re about halfway now. But please – refrain from speaking. The tunnel is millennia old and we would prefer to avoid any mishaps.’

The scout’s hushed warning promptly shut Varric up, the audible snapping shut of his jaw almost sending Lea into an irrational giggling fit. She’d lost all sense of spatial awareness, only able to put one foot in front of the other in her determination to flee the confining space. Every time her vision adjusted to the darkness a brazier would appear. Shadows guttered, Lea’s imagination running riot at the thought of ghostly magisters of yesteryear plying their bloody trade to construct such a feat of engineering.

The mingled sound of harsh breaths and the rasp of heavy leather hitting sand merged with the light rattle of metal armour as they stumbled on. She hated enclosed spaces, courtesy of being bound and left to rot in a dungeon. The distance to walk was neverending, Lea’s mind beginning to play tricks on her as she indulged in fantasies of reaching the end, only to be crushed when confronted with another funnel of pitch black.

_Hmm, hmmm hmmmmmm. Let’s make a game out of this…..before I truly go mad…._

_How to kill Vivienne. Should I just borrow Cullen’s sword to chop her head off? Or perhaps a quick flick with a knife…._

‘Ooof!’ Lea’s nose hit the back of Alistair’s plate-covered back as they came to a grinding stop, tears welling from the pain. ‘Ow! What the fuck!’

‘Welcome to Minrathous, Inquisitor.’ Alistair’s broad grin did nothing to rescue Lea from her discomposure. ‘You’ll live. Nothing broken, I take it?’

‘No thanks to you,’ Lea grumbled, massaging the bridge of her nose.

Her eyes adjusted to the shaft of light above her head, a ladder equally as tall as the first all that stood between her and Cullen. She couldn’t quite believe it, Lea having been so caught up in her imagination she’d not noticed the gradual incline leading into the city proper. Her magic was by this point screaming in frustration, the myriad of wards saturated into the stone preventing it from further exploration.

‘This leads us to our friend the Magister?’ Cadan asked, testing the strength of the rickety wood.

‘Yes, my lord. This ladder opens straight into the basement of the property, where Magister Irian awaits your arrival.’

‘Well don’t just stand there!’ Dorian exclaimed, pulling himself up onto the first rungs. ‘Let’s get a move on. Irian will be delighted to see me again. Last time I visited his mansion I watered his flower pots with the finest Antivan red and fed the rarest of truffles to his goldfish.’

‘You won’t hear me disagreeing with you, Sparkler. Get a move on,’ Varric rumbled, heading up right behind him.

‘After you, Inquisitor. Nicely tucked up in the middle. That seems the safest bet. The scout can bring up the rear.’ Cadan gave her a light push up to get her going.

Lea started to climb, the tension within her begging for release. She was as taught as a bowstring, her nerves on high alert. After all the months of searching, for all the rivers she’d cried and the vengeance she’d sworn – it was nearly over. She was exhausted, drained and in sore need of some space to herself to reflect on everything she’d learnt. Each step took her closer to Cullen, to the woman who’d made attempt after vicious attempt to tear them apart.

Just a few more steps and she would be….

‘Cullen!’

Lea’s scream pierced the labouring silence. Her body shook from the force of cobalt blue impacting with the sapphire threads of her magic. The potent energy fired through her blood and resounded through her brain, Lea able to do little but cling to the ladder, weeping with agonised joy. Her heart sang and her spirit were in raptures, the safety of his protective presence living once more in her soul. She couldn’t move, tremors racking her limbs as she greedily absorbed the unique fibres of their bond once more.

‘Lea! Hang on! Maker…is she going to fall?’

_My life, my love….you came…for me…_

_I am here….I will never leave you…._

Their shouts were distant, Lea lost in a maelstrom of flawless perfection. Distantly she registered her fingers gripping the slippery rungs in her only act of self-preservation, her mind racing away to follow the twin streaks of sapphire and cobalt back to their source. She was exultant and terrified, the strength of Cullen’s lyrium desperately pulling her towards him leaving Lea on the verge of losing herself in the torrent of power.

He was there, with her at long last, Lea suddenly screaming in harsh agony as she bore witness to all he’d suffered during their long separation. His lyrium addiction clung to his essence like a malignant pestilence, the anxiety that he’d never be man enough to ensure her safety the only reason he’d succumbed to lyrium’s toxic call. The paralysing fear, that Vivienne had ensared her life so thoroughly rocketed through Lea’s brain, Lea grasping with immediate clarity just how much danger her life was in.

_I have betrayed you…myself…_

_I do not deserve you…._

‘Cullen – please, no,’ she shrieked, trembling violently as her fingers started to lose their hold. ‘We’ll find a way, I promise you….I will not be parted from you ever again!’

‘Shit…she’s slipping…..’

‘She’ll die if she falls,…..did not survive the Deep Roads for this!’

‘….reach up….grab her….’

‘Lea!’ Cadan’s desperate shout was accompanied by his clutching hold of her calf to stabilise her. ‘We’re going to send a rope down and haul you up. Hang on, for the love of the Maker!’

She was ignorant of the world around her, crying tears of anguish and happiness. The beauty of Cullen’s soul was merged seamlessly with hers once more. She was lost to the purity of Cullen’s love, a balm to the clawing terror that she’d kept hidden for so long. She was wailing, desolate as his anguish and sorrow reverberated to each beat of her heart. Never had she experienced such a blazing high yet devastating low as their connection re-established itself, Lea able to do nothing but cling on and gasp as tremor after tremor rocked her from head to toe.

‘I’ve got it….gently now….’

‘Ease the rope – there, that’s it under her arms…..’

‘How am I supposed to prise off her fingers…oh wait….’

Dimly she felt something tighten around her chest, Cadan pushing her face into the stinking moss as he eventually climbed high enough to secure her from falling.

‘Sorry for being so rough but it’s that or plunging to your death….there - you can let go now…’

Cadan had worked her fingers free and was supporting her back against the dead weight of her body. Lea was slowly hoisted upwards, the pain from the knots under her arms reluctantly dragging her away from the ecstatic reunion between the her magic and Cullen’s lyrium. She was unceremoniously hauled over the edge of a granite ledge, some part of her registering that she’d won free of the terrifying tunnel and was firmly on Minrathous’ soil. There was a man before her with midnight blue robes on she didn’t recognise, the world spinning faster and faster as she frantically tried to pull herself erect.

_Cullen! I don’t want to go….don’t want to leave you…._

_Rest now, my love…you’re safe….I will always find you…._

‘Rest? Yes….you always have the best ideas…..’

Those were the last words out of the Inquisitor’s mouth as the dual impact of shock and yearning claimed her, Lea collapsing in a dead faint onto the cold stone floor.


	15. On The Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, got a bit hectic with Cullen Appreciation Week. Sadly I didn't get a chance to write the scene with Cullen, Alistair and Freya Amell for the rare pair day, but it's on the list! I did manage to write the night Cullen spent with Nathalie Hawke. 
> 
> [Calm of the Storm](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12001524) was fun, although very bittersweet. So many emotions around Knight-Captain Cullen right now, sigh. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the next chapter :)

A long list of the nightmare situations he wished away to the Void rattled through Cullen’s head. There was the Shrine of Dumat, no horror comparable to discovering Leaena, broken and left for dead in a torture chamber. Walking away from her comatose self in Skyhold, convinced he’d never see her again most definitely warranted a mention. Or yes, her rigid posture as she’d stormed away from him in the Arbor Wilds, determined to take on Samson without his assistance – another prime contender.

_Thwack!_

The training ground rang with the clang of steel against metal and wood. Cullen neatly dodged the flying arm of the training dummy and spun round, his sword an arc of blurring light. The decapitated head of another dummy followed a split second later. He didn’t stumble, traversing the training ground with ease as he automatically danced the steps of the intricate swordplay routine.

_Thwack!_

Minrathous, and the seething den of forbidden magic use it housed, had without question entered the top five list of places Cullen never needed to visit again. He’d happily face down a thousand desire demons in Kinloch Hold to spare Leaena from the wicked pit of hell he’d unwittingly thrust himself into. The torture he’d suffered as a young man flashed before him, Cullen’s sword cleaving through the apparition shimmering into life.

_Thwump!_

The reverberation from the blow he’d dealt to the hapless training dummy-turned demon shot right up Cullen’s shoulder, a welcome distraction from the ever-present sickening sensation. He was sweating rivers in the oppressive afternoon heat, salt stinging his eyes as he blinked himself back into reality. His breath rasped as he took a step back. Every inch of blood magic’s filth was crawling over his skin and into his brain, Cullen’s increased sensitivity a silent stranglehold round his throat.

The only respite he had was to physically push himself beyond his limits, this the second day in a row Cullen had sought the sanctuary of the training ground. He’d never been fitter nor more prepared for battle, the relentless training regime he’d undertaken during the long journey distracting him from the worst of lyrium’s side effects.

Daydreaming of retribution was all that kept him going, preparing for Leaena’s eventual appearance. Cole had confirmed his innermost fear and hope, Cullen clinging onto that tiny shred of potential liberation the sprit had blessed him with. He’d analysed repeatedly the few brief words Cole had uttered, only to reach a dead end.

Leaena’s arrival was merely a question of when. Frustration welled at his lack of progress in discovering anything useful since they had arrived in Minrathous the day before. Lars had seemingly vanished, only appearing at a tediously boring formal dinner to eye him with continued suspicion. Vivienne was losing her sense of the rational, Cullen was certain. Which made her all the more unpredictable.

As for Magister Gallus…..words failed him. The depravity to which he’d heard Tevinter mages could descend to were embodied in the skeletal figure whose mansion Cullen had the ill fortune to reside in. The mage practiced blood magic as casually as he did breathing, terrified slaves hiding in corners should they become his next victim. Cullen was expected to play nice, pandering to the murdering fiend instead of smiting Gallus at dinner, perched smugly on his overly-stuffed crimson brocade dining chair.

With difficulty, Cullen forced to one side the desire to eradicate everything in his path. He’d let his powers grow for when he needed them the most, the lyrium lending its fire to his resolve. As he’d planned, the Knight-Commander of old had returned with a vengeance, Cullen haunted repeatedly by visions of Kirkwall’s blood mages in his dreams last night. If he’d forgotten his purpose before, being so brutally reminded of magic’s risks bought his every paranoid thought right back to the surface. At each turn he was being confronted by that which tormented him the most.

Just when he felt himself flounder, though, Leaena was there to remind him of what was important. No, he was more than the feared and despised Knight-Captain of old. Persecution of mages for nothing more than their inborn abilities…those days were long gone. The echoes within his soul, the perfection of Leaena’s magic’s song, saved him time and time again from his worst enemy – himself. 

_And then, there’s this._

_The root cause of all my woes._

‘My my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Knight-Commander. Quite the tan you’ve built up these past few days too. I am sure the ladies and men of Tevinter will make the most of the view.’

Vivienne sauntered into the centre of the ring, running an appreciative gaze over his bare chest and arms. It had been impossible for him to practice effectively without stripping down to breeches and boots. Cullen wanted to vomit. The song he’d daydreamed about moments before caught at his heart, begging him for release. He fixed his gaze at a point somewhere above her ridiculous hat, refusing to show how badly affected he was by his proximity to Leaena’s blood. Vivienne paused, a smirk on her lips at his obvious discomfort under her scrutiny.

‘Are you her to train, Vivienne?’ Cullen couldn’t help but compare the two women, Leaena’s superiority in every element that counted winning hands down. ‘I would highly recommend it. Last time we fought together you were barely able to raise your staff, let alone hit anyone.’

‘The Inquisitor is nothing without that special magic of hers.’ Vivienne waved a nonchalant hand of dismissal, her malicious gaze belying her underlying annoyance at being reminded of Leaena’s capabilities. ‘How long can she function with such an alien presence in her blood, I wonder? Before it destroys her? No, no my dear, I am not worried in the least. She will wither away to a husk while I remain here, safe in Tevinter where even Gaspard has little reach.’

Cullen refused to bow to Vivienne’s blatant goading, even as a seed of dread took root in his heart. Occasionally, he’d questioned the continued existence of the green fire alongside Leaena’s own innate magical ability, but she’d never complained. Leaena, wracked by the flames and lightening up her arm as she lay comatose in Haven’s dungeon was not an image he was likely to forget. She’d nearly died from the magic’s toxicity until Solas had appeared.

Now, however, was most definitely not the moment to ponder on Vivienne’s open spite. He was satisfied enough to have scored a hit against his captor, assured to see Vivienne had no inkling of Cole’s surprising visit.

‘So what brings you here?’ It was an effort, to appear civil, but somehow he managed. ‘Hardly for the pleasure of my company. You’ve deliberately held me at arm’s length.’

‘There’s no need to pout. If I’d realised you were pining for me so much I would have made….arrangements.’ Vivienne trailed one nail along his bicep, Cullen shuddering in disgust at the unasked for contact. ‘Oh. Silly me. Still holding out hope that Leaena will whisk you away? She’s welcome to try.’

Her throaty chuckle was accompanied by a gesture towards the vial round her neck. ‘I don’t think you’re going anywhere in a hurry, do you? Lucky me. I have need of your special services, Knight-Commander. We are going to make some courtesy calls.’

‘Care to tell me where?’ He was gripping the hilt of his sword so hard it was about to cut into his palm. ‘Or what you expect of me precisely? Forewarned is forearmed.’

‘Why yes.’ Vivienne beamed at him, her voluminous white silk skirts brushing up against his legs as she leaned in closer. ‘We’re paying a little visit to the Archon’s Palace. Then onto the Magesterium, which I’m certain you’ll take by storm. In fact, my dear, there’s a little something you can do for me when we’re at the Magisterium.’

‘Which is?’ Cullen cocked an sarcastic eyebrow at her flights of lunacy. ‘I’m one Templar against hundreds of magisters, might I remind you yet again. My priority is to ensure your safety and I won’t be distracted from that task.’

‘Nothing, just be your usual disagreeable self, that’s all I ask.’ Vivienne looked blithely unconcerned at their impending outing to greet the might of the Empire. ‘Try to hold back on any outward display of violence. If you sense anyone about to cast something less than pleasant in our direction, then you have my permission to act. There will be senior Templars present. A show of what they’re lacking will only gain us favour and secure my position in the Magisterium.’

‘Your what?’ Cullen stared at her in incredulous astonishment. ‘Surely you’re not expecting to waltz into the Tevinter Empire and become a fully-fledged Magister without so much as a by-your-leave?’

Vivienne’s confident smile made no pretence of her delight at his ignorance. ‘But of course. What on earth else do you think I came all this way for? You of all people should have guessed at my ambitions.’

‘How the fuck am I supposed to know?’ Cullen’s temper frayed enough for his control to slip. ‘You tell me precisely nothing!’

‘Now now, Cullen.’ Vivienne was thrilled to have goaded him sufficiently to lose his composure. ‘Try again, this time with a little less bark, yes?’

Cullen hated himself for letting Vivienne get to him so easily. Allowing himself a simmering glare in her direction, he attempted a more measured response.

‘Foreign mages must be indentured for years before they can hope for their own independence. It’s one of the reasons why so many southern mages refused to head to Tevinter during the rebellion. Swapping the Circle for servitude to a magister was not seen as a preferred choice to all but a few of the most desperate. I had assumed Lars was indentured to Gallus. Are you saying you’ve found a way to circumnavigate that requirement?’

‘Honestly, Cullen, can you see me as an indentured servant like that fool Fiona?’ Vivienne’s scornful laugh raised Cullen’s hackles, her arguments less than convincing. For now, he’d have to continue indulging her. ‘I’m impressed that you made such an educated stab at the situation, but no, I will grace the Magesterium as a magister and Lars is to be my indentured assistant. Today is merely an introduction as the formalities begin. Gallus has been most….accommodating in that regard.’

‘I bet he has. But, again, why did you hide this from me?’ Cullen snarled, slamming his sword back into its scabbard to vent his rising concern. ‘I am supposed to aid you and yet you leave me with no time to prepare for such an important meeting. Haven’t I proven my worth, in every way which counts?’

‘This was the very last secret, my dear. Besides, you need little preparation. We’ve discussed the Archon and the Magisterium to death already. You’re perfectly capable of rising to the occasion at a moment’s notice.’

His disbelief intensified, Vivienne obviously blinded by her own delusions. She simply couldn’t stroll into Tevinter and gain such a lofty position as a Magister. Especially not with her reputation and her continued avowal of utilising blood magic. They were treading on exceedingly dangerous ground, Cullen’s trepidation growing as he considered quite what the Magesterium wanted with a mage of her standing. One slipup due to her arrogance would put the noose firmly around Leaena’s neck. All he could do for now was play along and seek some answers out of the repulsive Gallus after they’d bent their knee to the Archon.

‘By this evening, our enemies will become apparent. Your abilities will come in handy to identify those who would be prepared to practice nefarious magics on my person. You may stop them if you wish. We will then discuss how best to nullify them as a threat.’

‘Not good enough, Vivienne. You need to give me information on what is going on beyond these four walls.’ He needed to know, to have an idea that Leaena was still safe from her crazy machinations. ‘I travelled for months blindly, with little contact with the outside world. You’ve kept me prisoner here in this mansion with only the blandest of dinner chitchat. I warned you before, don’t try my patience. I will not enter the Archon’s Palace or the Magisterium without knowledge on the Inquisition nor the world around us. There is too much at stake to allow me to blunder around in the dark.’

It was his final gamble, to wring a drop of….anything, from Vivienne. He’d had to fight for every inch during these interminable months, a typical captor’s trick to ensure compliance. Cullen was utterly alone in this hostile land. It was up to him to find a solution.

One part of him was desperate to see Leaena, Cullen firmly believing the second he lay eyes on his wife-to-be everything would miraculously righten in his world. The other part of him demanded more time, to find a clue that would lead to her freedom from a lethal spell she didn’t even know she was trapped in.

Vivienne frowned, annoyed with his bald statement but unable to deny the logic in Cullen’s argument.

‘The standoff between Tevinter and Par Vollen continues. Gaspard is continuing to execute half his nobles in a pathetic attempt to wrest the Council to his will. His efforts to intimidate the Imperium by lining up half his army along the border has caused the Imperium to send several regiments to shake their swords in return. Your silly little Spymaster Leliana has taken her seat on the Sunburst Throne and is preaching the same nonsense she spouted back at Skyhold, allowing elves and other undesirables into the Chantry. She’s being met with some fierce resistance but it remains to be seen how she’ll put down the insurgents spreading unrest. Bhelen seems to have taken a leaf out of Gaspard’s book. His opponents, to a dwarf, have all been met with a swift death. Satisfied?’

‘Are you serious? Of course I’m bloody not!’ Cullen was furious as his glare bored into Vivienne’s, fully aware she’d skirted the one subject he badly wanted information on. ‘There’s a whole Inquisition altering the balance of power in Thedas, not to mention the land of my birth. It’s a pretty crap cover story if I’m here to guard you, not knowing what my own Inquisition is doing, wouldn’t you think? So, if you don’t fancy a reminder of a Templar’s authority you’ll share what you know. Now!’

‘Must you be so coarse?’ Vivienne’s moue of displeasure only served to fan Cullen’s stubbornness. News on his friends, family and his reason for being were being hidden on purpose and he was damned if he’d tolerate another second. ‘Oh very well, if you must insist, although why you need to know is beyond me. The King of Ferelden has vanished….’

‘Vanished!’ It was the last news Cullen had expected. ‘What in Andraste’s name do you mean?’

‘If you would just let me finish, then perhaps you can reach your own conclusions.’ Vivienne shook her head at him. ‘There was a note left for Eamon. Who would have thought a King would behave with no more aptitude than an immature schoolboy? So like his father. Anyway, Alistair has gone in search of his whore. He seems to have abdicated his throne although he has promised to return. Ferelden is in uproar. Until there’s proof of his death they’ve a monarchy with no monarch, their government thrown into disarray. They are fortunate that Orlais and Tevinter are so occupied otherwise Gaspard would be seeking to crush the dog lords under his boot.’

‘Alistair is searching for Freya…’

Cullen stopped himself, rocked by the news, Vivienne’s sniping forgotten. Leaena was in the Deep Roads and would have needed a guide. Alistair’s presence would certainly save them time. There could be no other alternative. He was convinced the two were travelling together. While sagging in relief wasn’t an option, Cullen took heart in the knowledge that Alistair was with her, refocussing instead on her next sullen words. He’d find the moment to defend Freya’s honour later, letting Vivienne’s slur against Alistair’s chosen slide.

‘The Inquisitor and several of her companions have also disappeared, about eight weeks after we departed. It’s assumed the odious dwarf, her scapegrace of a brother and the one relatively civilised member of her team have joined her. I must say Leaena’s timing, three weeks after Alistair’s own theatrics, would be questionable if the world and his wife weren’t aware of Alistair’s devotion to his Chancellor. Your paltry Inquisition is leaderless and rudderless. Fortunately for Leaena, Josephine is in charge and doing an admirable job of cleaning up the mess she’s left behind. The Inquisition weakens by the day every moment she is away, recklessly disregarding her responsibilities.’

‘You have no idea where she is.’ Cullen didn’t hide the triumph in his softly spoken retort. ‘And you don’t like that, do you, Vivienne? The Inquisitor is not jumping to your tune and you don’t have the the faintest idea what to make of it all.’

It wasn’t hard for Cullen to spot the irrational gleam of madness beneath her bravado, cautioning him to tread very carefully. ‘She can jump wherever she wants. It doesn’t alter the fact that I have your precious princess over a barrel.’ Vivienne’s air of blithe disregard masked her agitation. ‘If you’re quite done with your interrogation, I will see you in two hours at the entrance. Be ready or you’ll regret it.’

The knowledge she’d shared was mere scraps. He didn’t care. For the first time since he’d left Skyhold, a view of everything he’d missed out on was beginning to emerge. As well as enticing Alistair to join her, Leaena was tackling the Deep Roads with Varric and, Cullen surmised, Cadan and Dorian. Vivienne was seriously rattled by Leaena’s disappearance, not having planned for such a relentless pursuit. Even better, she had no clue that the Inquisitor herself would, at some point soon, pitch up unannounced with the King of Ferelden and a scion of House Pavus in tow. There was plenty for him to process, and not a moment to spare.

He waited for Vivienne to disappear inside the gloom of the mansion rather than trail her inside. Shrugging on the loose shirt lying in the corner, the blessed relief of shade soon sheltered him. Cullen had to prepare for an audience with the Archon. Practically running through the dim corridors, he made it upstairs to the guest rooms without being disturbed. It was with no little relief he found himself back in the relative safety of his chambers, hurrying through his bedroom to find a bath already drawn by a cowed elven slave.

‘Is there anything else I can help you with, my lord?’ the girl squeaked, terrified as she caught a glimpse of Cullen’s grimace at being disturbed. ‘Anything you need! I can scrub your back, pleasure you -‘

‘Maker save me! No!’ Cullen was horrified the elf felt obliged to offer up her body as recompense. ‘I – I thank you for your assistance. Please, leave.’

The girl scurried out, Cullen heaving a disgusted sigh. The whole of Tevinter was a den of decadence pandering to the ruling classes. If someone had told his thirteen-year old self that he’d be serving the Order in the specific capacity he now found himself, he’d never have joined.

_Really? That’s a lie. If I’d never become a Templar I would never have met her._

_Everything I do is for Leaena. Something Vivienne will never understand._

Feeling his resolve strengthen, Cullen quickly stripped naked and climbed into the enormous marble tub, a hiss of satisfaction leaving him at the feel of cool water on his sunburnt skin. He wasted no time scrubbing his hair and body, rejecting the row of bottles laid out in favour of plain soap. Why such a fanciful assortment was on offer was something he didn’t want to think on, the elf’s suggestion evidence of what such exotic oils would have been utilised for.

He’d adjusted to the permanent vibrations of magic coursing through the air, but nothing could erase the underlying darkness. It was impossible to scour the stench of corruption and black magic away, no matter how hard Cullen scrubbed.

‘Fuck this!’ He flung the cloth to one side and climbed out, impatient for action. ‘Ignore the magic. It’s what Vivienne wants, for me to be so thoroughly blindsided by Tevinter bullshit. She won’t win.’

As he went to his bedroom to towel himself dry, Cullen marshalled his chasing thoughts together. Vivienne’s reticence made him want to thump something in fury but equally, he’d been handed a golden opportunity. He’d been metaphorically caged for months. With their launch into Tevinter society, and Vivienne’s ludicrous delusions to style herself as a fully-fledged magister, Cullen would be able to set the stage for Leaena’s arrival.

‘I am here representing the Inquisition, after all.’ His sudden grin was vicious. ‘It would be wrong of me to not speak up about the perils of mages who’ve reversed the Rite. You’ve lost your touch, Vivienne. I will bow to your madness no longer.’

His mind continuing to race at all the potential implications, Cullen pulled on the lightest underlayers possible before strapping on his robes and armour. Scowling at himself in a mirror, he combed back his unruly hair, its habitual blonde lightened from the amount of hours he’d spent under the sun. Cullen, to all intents and purposes, was the Knight-Commander bought back to life.

A life he’d so thoroughly rejected, in his quest to right the wrongs of his past. The mark of the Templar Order emblazoned on his chest flared red as a shaft of light pieced through the drapes, the same crimson that soaked the halls and chambers of Kirkwall during Meredith’s brutal reign. Blood he’d helped spill in the name of protection. 

‘One Templar, as ordered. An illusion I intend to maintain for as long as necessary, to get the results I need.’

A promise Cullen intended to keep. The blue fire pumping through his veins, constantly hunting for Leaena, was a permanent reminder of all that was at stake should he fail.

‘Blessed Andraste, where is she, please, I beg…..aaaahhhhh!’

_Oh, sweet Maker!_

_Leaena! I…._

The room was sucked dry of air, an unseen force slamming directly into Cullen’s chest. He couldn’t breathe, gasping as he slumped to his knees, Cullen’s coarse cry swallowed by a wholly unexpected torrent of sapphire-shaded magic. He didn’t get a chance to finish his desperate plea. The last thing he’d expected from the lyrium’s mindless, frantic searching was for his sapphire mate to celebrate their reunion.

‘You came, Andraste save me…all this way….just for me…..’

Leaena was actually here, right in Minrathous. He’d forgotten just how intoxicating it was for their sprits to combine in perfect unison. The sensation was even more overwhelming for the sheer depth of emotions hitting him in one explosive moment – love, rage, fear, sadness, exhilaration and an underlying pain so profound Cullen started to sob.

_So long, it’s been so long…._

_Maker, how I missed you! No words…adequate enough…._

It had ever been thus, their individual emotions amplified a thousandfold whenever they were closely bonded again. The absence of months had only enhanced the strength of their connection. Twin blurs of sapphire and cobalt flooded through his bloodstream, Cullen able to do little to prevent the vortex thundering through his very essence.

‘No, don’t cry, please, I did it for you…I would do it all over if it means you live.…’

He wept, tears of anguish spilling onto the floor. Leaena’s guilt and remorse matched his own, their souls stripped bare of anything but the harsh truth. She saw, with blinding clarity, the bitter shame he’d been hiding from, revealed for the base addiction it truly was. The shot of agony firing through him at her realisation sent Cullen crashing to the ground, his hands clutching his head in despair.

Her brilliant mind was so fragile, so brittle. Leaena had suffered because of his actions, and it was all he could do to hope her trauma wasn’t beyond repair.

_For you….I would do anything…..I will never be parted from you again…._

_Stay safe, my lady…hang on just a moment longer…we’re so close now…_

Anxiously, he tried to reassure her. It dawned on him that she wasn’t yet secure, wherever she was in Minrathous. Cullen willed himself back into some semblance of control, not wishing to make her task any harder. Instead, he embraced the purity of their love, forcing his own harsh regret to the side.

_Don’t….want to leave you…._

‘You honour me…..what you’ve risked….for me…’ Leaena wouldn’t hear his fervent whisper, but she’d sense his intent. ‘You’ve come so far….you can rest now, my love. You’re so very tired….you need sleep….’

Abruptly the turbulence buffeting him weakened. Leaena had passed out, presumably from a lack of sleep, stress and overwrought from their reunion. She was safe, though, and that was what mattered for now. Her magic and his lyrium spun in delirious harmony, sated from their own exertions as Leaena finally rested peacefully.

Despite the burden of heartache and the insurmountable task which still lay before them, hope had begun to blossom through the devastation still ripping through him. They were together once more, after a fashion, Cullen gradually recovering from his own shock at being so abruptly reunited with his Inquisitor. He lifted his head, wiping the remainder of the tears away, and dragged himself to standing. His eyes were closed, his breathing becoming steadier. One ragged breath after another flowed, the simple joy of carrying her presence within him permeating every single last cell in his body.

Gleeful, vengeful elation began to push aside the sorrow and horror. Cullen was a practical man, first and foremost, the opportunities which once had seemed so distant now at his fingertips. When Vivienne had last seen them together, their bond was in its infancy, a magical amalgamation so rare it would take decades of scholarship to understand the barest of its principles. Vivienne couldn’t have factored in Leaena’s presence in the city, and had even less understanding of just how Leaena and his spirits were joined.

Cullen, for once, held the upper hand over his unstable and volatile captor. Leaena’s courage and wisdom was joined with his own. Just knowing she was near, safe and protected, where he could find her any time he wanted gave Cullen strength. Between the two of them they’d forge a path and ensure Vivienne’s defeat. 

It was imperative that he give nothing away of his newfound determination to Vivienne. She’d notice something awry within seconds, her paranoia on the increase the more insanity encroached on her reasoning. Leaena was his secret to keep and he’d relish each second of it. He couldn’t quite get over it still. She was truly there, perhaps only a few minutes’ walk away…..

A sharp knock on the door jolted Cullen out of his rumination, his senses alert to the mage on the other side of the door. Unable to think up any clever excuse to not answer, he hastily ran a hand through his hair and prayed his face didn’t reveal any tell-tale signs of his earlier distress and the incredulity still holding him in its grip.

‘Lars? Come in.’

After months of inaction, the surprises were flowing thick and fast this afternoon. Cullen stood, arms folded to hide the residual shaking in his hands as he watched Leaena’s cousin enter. He schooled his features into what he thought was a neutral expression, intrigued as to what had bought the mage to his quarters ahead of the meeting with the Archon at the risk of Vivienne’s wrath. Lars had found an excuse to leave the dining room table early the previous night. Vivienne had discouraged all forms of communication, easy enough to understand why. It suited her purposes to have the two of them isolated from one another, unable to work together.

Lars appeared accepting of the arrangement even as Cullen railed against it. He wanted to win Lars over, to help him find a reversal to the spell holding Leaena hostage. To have an ally against Vivienne and her toxicity would have been heartening. This unscheduled visit was, perhaps, his only opportunity to convince Lars he wasn’t the infamous monster of old.

Judging by the wary look Lars shot him, Cullen had a way to go.

‘Welcome,’ Cullen gestured for Lars to sit. ‘What brings you here? We leave for the Archon’s Palace in less than an hour, don’t we?’

‘We do. I just – do you have everything you need? I heard a noise and thought I’d check up, to see if you were alright.’

The mage’s hesitation captured Cullen’s attention. Something had shifted in Lars’ perception of him, to offer help. With limited time before he was confronted with one of the most powerful rulers in Thedas, and with his newfound urgency given Leaena’s proximity, Cullen decided to seize the moment.

‘I’m fine. Just venting my frustration out on my armour,’ Cullen lied, weighing up his options. ‘The straps on the arms get fiddly. As to whether I have everything I need? That depends on you.’

Lars eyed Cullen with scepticism, curiosity warring with mistrust.

Curiosity, naturally, won the day.

‘What do you mean?’ He settled uncomfortably in an armchair. An invisible barrier blocking sound shimmered into existence around the room.

‘Is Vivienne aware you’re here?’ Cullen demanded, needing to be certain he wasn’t about to be double-crossed. ‘Why did you come? You’ve been avoiding me for the last twenty-four hours.’

‘She doesn’t know. She’s too busy with Gallus, rehearsing this audience with the Archon to notice me.’ Sincerity was apparent in Lars’ halting response. ‘This is important to everyone. I – well I’d rather help you than work against you.’

‘Yet you don’t trust me still.’ Cullen decided to go for blunt honesty, buoyed by the presence of a slumbering Leaena somewhere in the city. ‘I don’t blame you. We’re strangers in a foreign land who got thrown together only a day ago by a woman who’s blackmailing the pair of us. All you see is an infamous Templar from Kirkwall’s Circle come back to life, contrary to the family gossip you’ve heard of the Inquisitor – your cousin – falling in love with the Inquisition’s Commander. The one who’d quit lyrium who’s now back on daily draughts of the Maker-forsaken stuff. Did I miss anything?’

‘Blackmail?’ Lars visibly paled at Cullen’s educated guess. ‘How do you know – never mind. I’d say that was a fair summing up of the situation, yes. I’ve heard of you. I don’t know what would have possessed my cousin to do anything so out of character as to fall in love with a Templar. And if you love her in return, as the rumour mill claims, why are you here and not by her side?’

‘Because I would die for Leaena.’ Cullen’s quiet admission gave Lars pause, clearly not expecting such a direct response. ‘I am here because of her, because I love her to distraction. Resuming my former title is to save her life, the best way I can garner enough power to thwart Vivienne’s nefarious schemes. Are you aware of the spell Vivienne has cast over your cousin?’

‘No,’ Lars whispered, horrified. ‘Lea and I – we haven’t seen each other since she was sent to Ostwick Circle and even then, the meetings before that were at once a year family gatherings. I’d be surprised if she remembers who I am. I am from another offshoot of the Trevelyan family, from Markham but I was sent to Hasmal’s Circle then onto Montsimmard for a spell before returning.’

‘And where you encountered Vivienne.’ It was beginning to come clear. ‘You are aware of the events that befell Leaena at Montsimmard?’

‘That whole mess happened before I arrived.’ Lars nodded, his face clouding. ‘It was awkward, to carry the name Trevelyan. I couldn’t wait to leave.’

‘In that case there’s something else you should be aware of. Unbeknownst to Leaena or Trystan, Vivienne drew her blood. With the help of the then First Enchanter and Knight-Commander, they created a second phylactery. It was not held on her official record. This phylactery remained in Vivienne’s possession for years, an insurance policy so to speak, should she ever need to extract retribution against her former protégé. That time came after the Rite was reversed, Vivienne using an ancient blood magic spell to bind their spirits together.’

‘Blood magic? Even after what she’s done, Vivienne would never sink so low….’ Lars was visibly shocked. ‘What is the nature of this spell?’

‘It’s one only known to a few senior Templars.’ To his eternal regret, the Order had been central to its creation. ‘The power to track a mage through a phylactery was borne out of this original blasphemy. Leaena’s life is dependent upon Vivienne’s survival.’

‘Maker save me.’ Lars had turned ashen. ‘Is Lea aware?’

‘No. I was forbidden to mention anything when I departed Skyhold.’ Cullen didn’t trust Lars enough yet to bring him fully into his confidence. ‘Then I travelled with Vivienne. This is a deliberate ploy to separate me from Leaena and a direct attack on her authority as Inquisitor. That’s not Vivienne’s primary motivation, though. She’s only interested in impact this will have on Leaena personally.’

‘But….’ Lars stammered, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what he’d just heard. ‘To put on such a charade, all because of one person? Why?’

Cullen’s laugh in response held no mirth. ‘Power. Control. Revenge. The oldest reasons in the book. Vivienne is ferociously clever, and just as insane, thanks to the Rite reversal. You were at Montsimmard. Surely you understand the type of malevolent character she is?’

‘Insane? I wondered…..’. Lars’ mouth clamped shut, debating with himself how much information to reveal. ‘I was under Vivienne’s aegis, this is true,’ he eventually admitted. ‘She was my tutor for most of my apprenticeship, First Enchanter at Monsimmard before I underwent my Harrowing. I always knew she was ambitious beyond reason. Her network of informers was extensive, across Thedas. She gathered secrets to use against people. There were whispers amongst the apprentices of her corruption of Templars. Especially after….’

He trailed off, staring down at his hands clenched tightly together.

‘After what?’ Cullen pressed gently, sensing the mage was close to revealing the truth of what had him bound to Vivienne. ‘You may not be close to Leaena but I know that she would support any Trevelyan in need. Her commitment extends to me. Together, we can help each other.’

Lars twisted his hands in agitation, a flash of agony crossing his face. Releasing a long breath of resignation, he began to recount his past.

‘You can probably tell I am a Spirit mage. What is not so widely known is my talent for manipulating the Fade. Not to the extent Lea can with her Mark, nor walking the Fade physically – no one is capable of such feats aside from her. I can, on occasion visit other dreams. It’s completely erratic and wildly unstable. I never know when I’m going to land in someone else’s head. Perhaps only once or twice a year does it happen, and I do my best to get out of their dreams. I was terrified. It seemed so close to the blood magic the Tevinter mages used of old, probably what they still do even now. I wanted it to stop.’

‘To even enter the Fade without a blast of lyrium is an achievement on its own. Magic runs strongly in the Trevelyan line, it seems. Leaena is a talented dreamer in her own right, one of very few.’ The Templar in Cullen was fascinated, at the same time suspecting he knew exactly where Lars’ story would go. ‘What happened next?’

‘Hardly anything. It sounds far more special than it really is – again, nothing akin to Leaena or the dreamers of history. Just hazy images, the odd thought. Dreams are in such flux. How it could be of use to anyone I am at a loss to say.’ Lars’ had begun balling his robes in his fist by this point. ‘The fear of being enslaved by a demon….Maker take it, I am a devoted servant of Andraste! Yet I was committing heresy, convinced I’d be subject to the Rite if anyone found out. I began researching ways to make it stop, subtly or so I thought. One day Vivienne cornered me.’

Lars’ anger was palatable by now, recounting a dark tale remained hidden for years. ‘She demanded answers, said she’d noticed I’d been laying my hands on texts which teetered on the verge of blood magic study. She wanted to support me, she said. I had to confess. She was the First Enchanter by then! What else could I do?’

‘She wanted to research _me_. I became her pet project, Vivienne desperate to understand what properties I used to slip into people’s dreamstates unnoticed. At the start, I was enthusiastic. She wasn’t going to dob me into the Knight-Commander. Perhaps I wasn’t some freak of nature. How wrong I was.’ It was Lars’ turn to bark out a cold laugh. ‘One night, it was me, her other apprentice Shai and Vivienne, locked away in a dusty old tower with no Templars nearby. She didn’t tell Shai what she was there for, only that the two of us would spend the night asleep in the same room while she ran some observations. Andraste save me, why did I believe her?’

Cullen said nothing to Lars’ rhetorical question, instead waiting patiently for him to finish.

‘We fell asleep. And before I knew it, I was in Shai’s dreams, with no knowledge of how I’d arrived there so easily. The visions were so much stronger compared to what I’d ever experienced before. I tried frantically to escape, but I was bound to her somehow.’ Lars’ voice finally broke. ‘I….I attracted a pride demon in my thrashing around in the Fade. Both of us were fighting it off, but Shai couldn’t…..couldn’t…. I escaped and awoke, to find Vivienne in battle with what had been Shai, now an abomination.’

He dropped his head in his hands, shaking uncontrollably as the dark terrors of that night were replayed in full. ‘Together we defeated it, my friend reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash. I was broken, devastated, ready to be made Tranquil and bearing the responsibility for the cause of such a horrific death.’

‘But you didn’t did you?’ Cullen surmised, his anger stoked anew by Vivienne’s cruel manipulation.

‘Vivienne told me that she wouldn’t report it. Our secret, she said, which she’d never forget.’ Lars’s words were hushed in his torment. ‘She simply made Shai’s ashes disappear, while telling me Shai was weak and would have failed her Harrowing anyway. When the Templars came, drawn by the disruption in the fabric of the Veil, I wanted to confess all. To my eternal disgrace, I kept my mouth shut. Kept silent for so long. Until now.’

Cullen allowed Lars a moment to gather himself, shocked but not unsurprised by the turn the sorry tale had taken. It wasn’t the first occasion he’d heard of an experienced mage abusing an apprentice. Vivienne’s drive to succeed at any cost knew no bounds.

‘She departed for the Orlesian court shortly afterwards in a fanfare of arrogance and superiority. I spent the rest of my life living in fear of being exposed – who would believe the word of a mere apprentice over such an influential Court Enchanter? The years passed, lulling me into a false sense of security. I never heard from her again.’ He raised his head, the ravages of his conscience apparent. ‘The Mage-Templar war saw those of us loyal to the Chantry maligned, forced out by our own peers. I never wanted to fight! I was happy in the Circle, serving the Maker the best way I knew how. So I fled to Val Royeaux, only to find the Templars departed, the Order as I knew it destroyed. I heard about Vivienne’s downfall, the Rite a fitting punishment for the crimes I’d discovered she’d committed. I travelled Ferelden, helping Chantry sisters heal the sick and wounded after the Rift tore a hole in the sky. It wasn’t life as I’d expected but I was doing something to help, at least.’

‘How did you hear from Vivienne? She found you?’ Cullen hoped Lars could provide a clue as to how she’d deceived the Inquisition. ‘I still can’t fathom how she escaped a fortress in the middle of the Frostbacks.’

‘It was the strangest thing.’ Lars had by now recovered his composure, looking perplexed. ‘I received a note promising the world would know of my murdering an apprentice, as well as threatening to expose me as a blood mage. No matter it being a filthy lie. I was to use my noble connections to release a prisoner being held in Markham, then travel to Minrathous where another set of instructions awaited me. If I didn’t agree to act, my whole family would bear the consequences. My sisters ruined, my parents destroyed. The Trevelyan name dragged through the mud. It was a terrifying reality thrust before me.’

_And an unrealistic one._

_Enough to frighten an innocent, unworldly young mage into compliance, however._

Cullen didn’t voice out loud his opinion, instead letting Lars talk. Now the mage had started he didn’t seem able to stop.

‘I did everything the letter asked, in fear of reprisal against my family if I failed. My mistakes came back to haunt me and I refused to let my sins punish my family. I caught a boat to Minrathous, a journey that took a few weeks. When I arrived, I presented myself here, where Master Gallus provided me with another note. I was to prepare for Vivienne’s arrival, and yours. Beyond that, I remain at a loss as to what she wants of me, save to use me as a hapless pawn in her own power games.’

‘Who did you release?’ Cullen was piecing together answers to the puzzle which had long eluded him, and he wasn’t pleased with the picture emerging.

‘An assassin, Maker damn her worthless hide. An apostate too, which wasn’t so widely known – a hedge mage. Named Jane Brown, which is hardly her real name but not even torture could get the truth. Her sorry backside was only saved from the Templars because there were none left. It was fortunate that one or two had lingered in Markham that there was any protection in place. ’ Lars looked disgusted with himself. ‘We had the devil of a job getting the woman a stay of execution, let alone walking free again. But I begged Father to call in a few favours and, well….’

‘Vivienne too, walked free as a result,’ Cullen murmured, relieved and infuriated now he had the basic pattern of events established. ‘Somehow the assassin freed her from Skyhold in return for his freedom. Presumably Vivienne has some tame ex-Templars and mages around to help with the Rite Reversal, more of her dirty little tricks of coercion up her sleeve to frighten them into compliance. You weren’t involved?’

‘No. She’s never spoken of it.’ Lars looked troubled. ‘I don’t know what magic she used to clear the Sunburst Brand from her forehead, nor who she held in thrall to help her. Only that this assassin is key to it somehow. But if she’s free, he’s long gone.’

‘I appreciate your candour and honesty.’ A bell tolled the hour, Cullen hastily bringing such a fascinating conversation to a reluctant close. ‘I don’t want to give Vivienne any cause for alarm, so it’s best we both head downstairs now – you can always claim to have collected me en route to ensure I didn’t get lost in this monolith. Your information is invaluable. We’ll find a way out of Tevinter with Leaena intact, I promise you.’

Lars nodded, waiting by the door as Cullen hurriedly pulled on his gauntlets then attached his shield, reassured by the weight of his sword hanging from his hip.

‘Even with a barrier, we are constantly under observation. I don’t know how you intend to use the knowledge I’ve shared, but if there’s a way we can free Lea, I will assist you. You have my word.’

‘Very well. Let’s focus on the Archon’s meeting and see what we can glean that may be useful. We’ll meet again this evening.’ At Lars’ look of alarm, Cullen forced his point home. ‘If you are to help then do so. Trust me when I tell you events are moving too quickly for us to hesitate now.’

The corridors were blessedly quiet and empty, Cullen grateful for a few minutes to gather himself together. Hot on the heels of discovering Leaena’s arrival he’d been presented with Lars’ astonishing tale. In the next fifteen minutes, he’d be standing before the Archon and the might of the Magesterium immediately afterwards. The only certainty he had was the sapphire nestled blissfully within his soul, resting contentedly as Leaena slept on.

It was fortunate Leaena was sleeping, Cullen suspected, for the duration of the night and most of the next day. His presence within her would sooth and reassure her, ensuring she rested properly. It was better that he had all his energies focussed on what could potentially be the most challenging meeting of his life. Political forays were not his forte by any stretch of the imagination. But, with Leaena’s life at stake, Cullen had no other option but to join in Tevinter’s equivalent of the Great Game.

_You will laugh when I share the whole with you. For now, night night, my brave, beautiful lady._

_I am truly the most fortunate of men. How wonderful it will be to sense you when you awaken._

At least he was wearing plate rather than squeezing himself into some ghastly formal outfit. It was with a great effort Cullen hid his automatic smile at the thought of Leaena’s face when he told her who’d he was about to to dance attendance upon. Warmth spread like a balm throughout his battered emotions, his anticipation growing apace. All Cullen had to do now was listen and learn. The final battle would be fought soon. He, for one, couldn’t wait.


	16. En Passant

It was a game of chess between him and Vivienne, Cullen had concluded, attempting to rationalise the sheer lunacy of the past few months. The pieces were in play the moment he’d stepped out of Skyhold, the delicate series of rearguard defensive moves he’d played designed to protect Leaena the only way he could. No longer. As Vivienne had finally made her move, he could now act. The field had shifted the second his Inquisitor stepped into the city, the relentless pursuit of victory the only acceptable outcome.

‘So, Vivienne. What’s your grand plan this time?’

Cullen’s sarcastic drawl was low enough not to carry across the opulent grandeur of the anteroom where they awaited the Archon’s pleasure. The spark of irritation flashing across Vivienne’s immaculately made-up face only made his inward smirk grow. He’d had little time to formulate a plan since Leaena’s startling arrival in Minrathous, but the warmth of her magic nestled comfortably in his heart bolstered his confidence in a manner he’d sorely lacked since his departure from Skyhold.

‘Presumably even you don’t have enough dirt to coerce the Archon to do your bidding. What’s it to be? Offering yourself up as his concubine? Promising to deliver an heir with magical ability the likes of Thedas has never seen? It has to be good, to hold such a powerful man’s attention. Your charms will wear thin after a while, of course.’

It was a risky strategy, to be so openly provocative, but one he deemed worth taking as he swept in the reactions from the group. Lars’ sharp intake of breath was not lost on him. It didn’t take a genius to sense the waves of discomfort rolling from Leaena’s cousin.

Magisters were expert at masking their reactions, but Cullen had spent a lifetime watching mages for the slightest change. Gallus, for all his exalted talents, was no different. At a statement deliberately intending to goad Vivienne, Gallus raised a quizzical eyebrow to mask the underlying hint of consternation at Cullen’s unexpected attack.

‘Anyone would think you need a reminder of what’s at stake.’ Vivienne’s icy retort and disparaging tilt of her head didn’t fool him for an instant. ‘You have your orders. Meredith’s lapdog would do well to remember how to obey.’

Cullen didn’t bother responding, Leaena’s protective presence shielding him from Vivienne’s petty bitching. He’d got what he needed out of the unpleasant exchange. Since the startling revelations of the last hour, he’d managed to recover a semblance of equilibrium. From the moment he’d followed Lars out of his rooms and mounted his horse to escort Vivienne and Gallus to the Archon’s Palace, his mind had been a blur of activity. He’d barely noticed the imposing façade of the black marble towers dominating the entrance, nor the splendour of the gleaming gold and black halls as they’d been led through by an imperious chamberlain. Cullen was consumed with relief and exhilaration at finally being able to act.

All his suspicions, every one of the multitude of theories he’d cooked up in his mind on the long road north, were now confirmed in glaring clarity. Vivienne, while still one of the most brilliant minds of her generation, was entirely lost to reality. Her delusion had led him a merry dance over half of Thedas as he trailed after her, the only way he could think of to keep Leaena safe from the very real threat of the blood magic binding his Inquisitor to her nemesis. That particular journey ended here in Minrathous, although the story was far from over.

One look across at Gallus cemented Cullen’s belief that the Tevinter Imperium had an ulterior motive where Vivienne was concerned. Never had he heard of a more ludicrous strategy than for Vivienne to take the Magisterium by storm. He had to admire her for her tenacity, to have a plan for every conceivable outcome, but this scheme of hers was a million steps in the wrong direction. Gallus was playing her conceit and underlying insecurity to perfection.

 ‘The Archon is a reasonable man.’ Gallus’ raspy voice reminded Cullen of nails down a chalkboard. ‘We are here to present Vivienne as a formality, before the Archon opens the Magisterium for the spring session. There is no time to discuss this, here nor before we face the Senate. Follow my lead and improvise where required. You’ve a reputation for being an astute man, Commander. I’m sure you won’t disappoint.’

‘A flair for improvisation is not one of my strong points.’ Cullen decided against pushing Gallus himself, the man’s motivations for championing Vivienne’s bizarre cause as yet unclear. ‘Let us hope we will face nothing more alarming than the usual arrogance of the nobility. For if I witness even the slightest threat to Leaena’s life, I will not hesitate to act.’

‘Yes yes, you’re very intimidating. There’s no need for such a coarse display, is there?’ Vivienne gave a wave to cut short his words as she stood, catching sight of an approaching figure, bedecked in so much finery Cullen was half convinced the woman underneath the piles of red velvet and gold tassels would drown. ‘This will be the briefest of presentations and you’ve got one chance to make an impression. Pay attention now, my dears and let the show begin.’

He was glad at least one of them was looking forward to the pageantry almost always guaranteed to accompany presentations to the nobility. Cullen for one couldn’t wait for it to be over, cautioning himself to still his impatience lest he miss a vital clue. Straightening, the expressionless mask that came so easily to seasoned Templars slipped across his face. Vivienne too hastily stereotyped him as a blunt Ferelden with manners better suited to the kennels. More fool her. Cullen was as skilled at hiding his true emotions as the vile nest of vipers he now had to navigate, stoic silence as useful a weapon as a gilded tongue. It was a game he loathed, but for Leaena he’d play by their rules. For now.

Lars too, had stood, brushing down his robes and steeling himself for the upcoming audience. Polite disinterest was the tack he’d chosen throughout the short journey, skilled at concealing his thoughts. Hardly surprising for a Circle mage, after all, where one wrong glance could spell a lengthy trip in solitude or even forced submission to the Brand. He’d deliberately avoided eye contact with Cullen, wisely refusing to lend any fuel to Vivienne’s multitude of fires, imagined or real.

For they would find a way out of this unholy mess, Cullen was now convinced. Leaena was with him and a world of possibility had opened up once more. Added to the unexpected support from Lars, hope blazed, a welcome replacement for the black despair he’d tried so hard to fight against these long, lonely months. In one sense, Gallus was correct. All Cullen had to do was wait and observe and the path forward would be revealed.

Averting his gaze, he nurtured the spark of triumph growing, walking steadily yet confidently behind the other mages. He was no abashed, toothless Templar compared to the sorry examples manning the door before him. There was no warrior his equal in Tevinter, nor any with his abilities honed from years in Kirkwall, the harsh brutality of Thedas’ most unforgiving Circle on a par with the city it served. His innate modesty would serve no purpose here, Cullen allowing himself an arrogant raise of his chin as he strode in to meet one of the most formidable and feared rulers in Thedas.

Archon Radonis sat calmly watching their progress, the simplicity in his stark black robes at odds with the splendour of his surroundings. Cullen bowed along with the others, taking in the tall, striking man who radiated raw magical energy. That Tevinter bloodlines were selectively biased towards magic users the world knew, but he’d been unprepared for the sheer scale of the magic under the Archon’s control. 

_Fortunately, the one mage who can match Radonis in strength, power and ability just arrived._

_This promises to be a very interesting few days._

‘Rise,’ the Archon intoned, the sole word laden with authority. Cullen and the others did as they were bid, his heart beating faster as he looked properly at Radonis. Behind the command was a hint of inquiry. Instead of the usual bored ennui, Radonis was observing them with a raised eyebrow of interest, his gaze fixed on Vivienne. 

‘Madame de Fer. Welcome to Tevinter. A mage of your standing is always appreciated in the Imperium.’

She looked perfect, of course, the stark plain lines of her white gown cut to display her figure to full advantage. His suspicions were abruptly confirmed. It wasn’t Vivienne’s physical charms capturing the Archon’s interest. Alarm bells were ringing in Cullen’s head as he swept his gaze about the room to check for any hidden threats. The Tevinter Imperium wanted something from Vivienne. What, remained to be seen.

‘You honour me, Your Worship.’ Vivienne dropped a deep curtsey before rising, bestowing a dazzling smile on the royal audience. ‘Minrathous is truly the jewel of Thedas, its populace blessed from the benefit of your foresight and leadership. I am blessed to have found my way to such a beautiful and inspiring land.’

‘The addition of another formidable mage to our ranks is always cause for celebration,’ Radonis replied smoothly with the age-old familiarity of diplomatic language. ‘While we in Tevinter pride ourselves on our abilities, we always appreciate exchanging knowledge with our southern cousins.’

Cullen would have thought the Archon’s slight emphasis on the word _learn_ was in his imagination, had he not been paying close attention to the lightning-quick exchange between Radonis and Gallus. The bells were now a klaxon in his ears, Cullen forcing himself to stillness. Vivienne’s life, and Leaena’s by extension, were not in any immediate danger and he’d only give his newfound knowledge away.

‘Commander Cullen. Or is it Knight-Commander once more? I confess, I am surprised at the Inquisition’s presence in Tevinter.’ Radonis’ casual questioning was anything but. ‘Or are you attempting a revival of the Templar Order now the threat of Corypheus has been neutralised?’

_Improvise, they said._

_Well, now’s a good as time as any._

‘I have escorted Lady Vivienne to an environment more suited to her talents than the Inquisition can provide.’ Cullen uttered the bare-faced lies without qualm, uncaring whether his fairytale met with everyone’s approval or not. ‘The Inquisitor, upon further consultation with Emperor Gaspard and King Alistair, naturally offered my services. As one of Thedas’ most experienced Templars, she felt I was best placed to ensure Lady Vivienne met with no harm on the arduous journey north.’

‘An old acquaintance of Inquisitor Treveylan’s as I recall. Madame de Fer has quite the reputation.’ Radonis wasn’t fobbed off in the slightest, although the Archon was content enough to go along with Cullen’s nonsense for the sake of appearances. ‘The Inquisitor must miss your counsel. We are grateful you spared time from your duties to bring Lady Vivienne safely to Minrathous.’

Fortunately, there was no need for Cullen to respond, nor point out the very obvious conundrum yawning before them. Vivienne sitting in the middle of Tevinter was a diplomatic headache of epic proportions. While Gaspard had passed responsibility for Vivienne’s sentencing and imprisonment to the Inquisition, Radonis risked a serious incident by not returning a felon of her standing back to Orlais. Their troops were, even now, skirmishing on the border and it would only take a spark such as a traitor of Vivienne’s stamp roaming free to ignite a fully-fledged war.

Cullen’s mind was racing, at just what it was about Vivienne which was of such interest to the Archon, for an otherwise seasoned and wily leader to invite Gaspard’s displeasure. Not even Josephine’s formidable expertise at the negotiating table would be able to bring about peace. Orlais, while still reeling from their civil war, would not hesitate to raise arms against the Imperium. Tevinter would be exposed to further invasion from Par Vollen, eager though many in the Magisterium were to recapture an empire long ground to dust. Such a conflict would mark suicide for the Imperium and, by all appearances, Radonis was far from an idiot.

‘You bring us another exceptional mage, I see.’ Radonis had, thankfully, passed his piercing attention to Lars. ‘We are always eager to encourage such skills as I hear you display, Enchanter Trevelyan. Magic evidently runs in your family line, if you are anywhere as adept as the Inquisitor herself is rumoured to be.’

‘The Inquisitor has no equal, your Worship, save your august presence. I am but a lowly mage with little aptitude in comparison.’ Lars gave a courtly bow, the easy prattle of polite speech falling from his tongue worthy of the most experienced courtier. ‘I am humbled to be in the company of the best magical practitioners in Thedas.’

‘You will go far, young man. Tevinter is always happy to extend the hand of sanctuary to those in need.’ Radonis looked back to Gallus. ‘We will agree Enchanter Trevelyan’s indenture at a later date. One so gifted is bound to stir interest and it would be best to proceed with caution.’

Cullen’s respect for Lars grew. Not that he’d ever doubted any Trevelyan to lack courage, given the example his Inquisitor and her siblings had set. To his credit, Lars didn’t so much as flinch at Radonis’ careless discussion over his future and loss of freedom. The colour draining from his cheeks and a slight tightening around his jaw were the only signs of his distress at the confirmation of his servitude.

‘My thanks, Gallus, for facilitating such a fascinating introduction. One of Thedas’ most notorious mages, the Inquisitor’s cousin and her renowned Commander treading through the hallowed halls. It has been some time since the Senate greeted such an interesting audience. I’m sure the rest of your peers will appreciate the diversion.’ Radonis, for the first time, showed a glimmer of amusement. That the Archon was unphased by the controversy swirling around the latest arrivals to Minrathous was yet another warning sign. ‘We will meet again soon, Lady Vivienne. May the presentation at the Magisterium be all that we hope it to be.’

Cullen bowed once more as they were dismissed, relieved to have the brief audience out of the way. He’d reflect on what he’d learnt later. Vivienne swept out grandly, seemingly pleased with the meeting. He fell into step next to Lars, who was still holding his head high despite the deathly pallor that had appeared upon hearing his fate so baldly stated. Mages who swapped the Circle for the supposed enlightenment of the Imperium soon awoke to the harsh reality.

There was no way for Cullen to reassure Lars, that Leaena would sooner flatten the city than allow one of her relatives to succumb to such internment. That she was here, possibly just a few streets away. It was a problem which could wait until later. Lars could easily handle his own against a few idiot nobles in the meantime.

This was not the place to discuss the success of their presentation, curious eyes everywhere waiting for a weakness to be revealed. Settling the mages safely inside the carriage, he swung atop his horse, squinting in the bright sun as his mount clattered alongside Vivienne’s carriage. The Magisterium was a mere five minutes’ away but arriving with pomp and ceremony was essential for Vivienne to have the impact she craved. Cullen didn’t complain, preferring to be away from the cloying confines of the stuffy carriage with a few moments to brace himself.

The meeting with Radonis was critical, as only the Archon could appoint new mages to the rank of magister. The collected gathering of Tevinter’s noble class, however, was just as vital. Vivienne needed to choose the faction she courted with the utmost of care. Given her past history, Cullen could easily guess at who she’d choose. For all Radonis’ outward signs of disposing the Venatori, Cullen’s own troops assisting along the Nevarran border to remove that particular outcrop of fanatics, he would be naïve to dismiss the inbuilt drive for supremacy which existed in every Tevinter noble. In some nobles, this extended to a wish to revive the empire, to expand the Imperium’s borders. Corypheus’ downfall would have done little to extinguish such ambitions.

Pondering what he knew of Tevinter’s politics, Cullen began to reason out exactly who Leaena would turn to for assistance. She was in the Gilded Quarter, he was certain. Quickly, he ran through the Inquisition’s abundant intelligence on the Imperium, grateful for how thoroughly Josephine and Leliana had been in their efforts to identify Venatori sympathisers. Cullen narrowed her options down to Dorian’s House, Varric’s cousin Maeveris Tilani and Irian Amladaris. Whether Leaena would choose to align herself with known Inquisition advocates or a more neutral party such as House Amladaris, he wasn’t sure. There were positives and negatives to each potential alliance.

Looking up at the grandiose archway he was now trotting through, he decided to leave any guesswork behind. It was a given, however, that all three magisters would be in attendance for this extraordinary session. Vivienne’s infamy preceded her, guaranteeing a full house in the Senate. Cullen wasn’t so naïve as to ignore the fact that he too was a curiosity worthy of some attention. The Inquisition’s Commander in full Templar regalia, sheparding a mage he’d condemned to the Rite of Tranquillity, definitely ranked as gossip-worthy enough to guarantee a good turnout.

_And I’m not with Leaena. What could possibly have enticed the Commander away from his lover’s side?_

_The whispers and rampant speculation are audible from a mile away. Nothing better than some juicy, fictional scandal to whet the appetite._

Within a trice he’d dismounted. Rage coursed through him, for Leaena to be subject to such coarse and unjustified rumour. Yet another black mark against his captor, as if there wasn’t enough to stoke the flames of his fury. Assisting Vivienne down, he was well aware how familiar the both of them appeared to be with each other, to the casual observer at least.

‘So stern, Cullen.’ The flicker of malicious amusement was visible in the depths of Vivienne’s eyes, well aware of the reasons behind Cullen’s anger. ‘What will people think?’

‘Chop chop, Vivienne.’ His shutters came slamming down once more, the hard, unforgiving Templar in its place a safety net against the circling sharks around them. ‘This is the grand entrance you’ve been dreaming of for so long. Best not to dawdle.’

It was worth it, to see the burn of annoyance before Vivienne’s glare was replaced by a serene smile.

True to his expectations, the Senate was an enormously grand building, akin to the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. Its sheer size was intended to demonstrate the might of the Imperium, to dominate its rivals and dwarf the competition into insignificance. A whole honour guard of Templars flanked the white marble walls intricately carved with a lattice of dragons and mages, lining the massive staircase leading to solid bronze doors gleaming golden in the late afternoon sun.

The impact was wasted on Cullen, as unimpressed by such pointless posturing as he’d been in Orlais. Mentally gritting his teeth, he ignored the sly glances and not-so-silent mutterings of the bureaucrats gathered to watch their arrival. These were the Lateans, Cullen recalling Dorian’s acerbic comments on the illusion the magisters sought to preserve over society – that anyone could become a mage, creating generations of aspirations in an underclass doomed forever to obscurity in service of the Imperium. Striding through one of the oldest buildings in Thedas, Cullen felt the oppression of blood magic and the weight of a brutal history bearing down on his chest. He forced his instincts to one side, refusing to lose his focus. One false move in this most dangerous of arenas would see Leanea dead before they’d even begun.

The hallway to the upper Senate chamber was impossibly long, the ring of his plate boots on the black granite floor echoing in the hushed silence. Mages and slaves stopped to observe their progress, word of Vivienne’s arrival having spread even in the short time since they’d arrived in the capital. The buzz of muted conversation grew louder the closer they approached, Cullen’s tension rising with every step.

Gallus raised his hand to halt them right before they entered. ‘We have the floor for five minutes. I will introduce you. Vivienne, I have no doubt you will charm them with your wit and beauty. While I do not anticipate questions for you, Cullen and Lars, be prepared for any eventuality.’

‘And after the session is over?’ Cullen couldn’t wait to escape to the safety of his quarters to process the impact of Leaena’s arrival, and what he’d learnt in the short exchange with Radonis. ‘Five minutes is hardly long enough to negotiate Vivienne’s ascension to the Senate.’

‘Of course. This is simply a formality, albeit an important one. There is a party we will attend tonight, and that is where the real work begins.’ Gallus turned away, motioning for the massive oak doors to be opened. ‘Now is not the time, however, for such a debate. Pay close attention to the reactions of the magisters from each major House. I know you’re aware of who they are, Commander. The Nightingale’s efforts did not pass unnoticed.’

It was inevitable that Leliana’s spies would be detected at some point, Cullen letting Gallus’ jibe slide. There was no point in responding, nor dwell on the hideous realisation he’d be required to don a formal outfit and hobnob with Tevinter’s finest. The doors swung silently open and a silence descended on the Senate as the interlopers from southern Thedas made their appearance. Dozens of eyes focused on the small group, Cullen’s skin crawling from the sheer volume of magic concentrated in one space.

The domed ceiling arched high above them, magisters jostling for position in the upper galleries to get the best view of the notorious mage who’d survived beyond the odds to practice her craft once more. Flags hung down above each section of the gallery, Cullen rapidly memorising the location of each one and the House they represented. House Pavus was there, Dorian’s father hard to miss given his similarity to his son. Right next door to him was Mavearis, Cullen immediately realising the Houses were grouped depending on their political affiliations. That made his job easier.

Gallus led Vivienne forward to a raised dais. The sun streaming through the stained glass windows to the back of the hall lent an added effect of dramatization, Vivienne’s gown reflecting shades of red, blue, green and white in a transcendent haze of light. Cullen fought the urge to squint against the dazzle hitting his eyes from the sun’s reflection on his armour, halting to one side of Vivienne while Lars stood to the other.

‘My fellow Magisters.’ Gallus bowed, his voice booming in the enhanced acoustics of the gallery. ‘I thank you for allowing me to interrupt our usual proceedings. It is not often I have the pleasure of introducing to you a mage of such renown. Madame de Fer, formerly the First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Court Enchanter to the Empress Celene prior to her unfortunate demise, has survived much to join us here in Minrathous. I am sure you will join me in extending a warm welcome to Lady Vivienne.’

Every emotion was on display as Cullen’s idle gaze swept over the Magisters agog at Vivienne’s emergence. He’d expected to see sneers of disdain, raised eyebrows of surprise. Even faces with initial shock to see a former conspirator they’d thought banished forever, revived in such spectacular fashion. The sly looks of anticipation from a handful of mages, however, Cullen recorded for his own purposes. It matched the knowing exchange between Radonis and Gallus earlier, further evidence that Vivienne’s ambitions would not play out quite as she expected. Whether the same group of mages, even now circling her like vultures over a carcass, would be the ones Gallus advised her to court would bear watching.

Dorian’s father Halward was, much to Cullen’s consternation, observing him rather than Vivienne. A whispered consultation between him and Maevaris had taken place, the two Magisters the Inquisition considered allies clearly intrigued by his presence in Tevinter. Whether it was to do with Leaena’s arrival, he couldn’t guess. It would be dangerous for Cullen to show any overt interest in those two, Vivienne being aware of the ties between the families and Leaena.

‘Thank you, Magister Gallus.’ Vivienne dropped a sweeping curtesy. ‘To be in such illustrious company, among the most talented mages in Thedas, is a lifelong dream achieved. My journey to Tevinter has been paved with obstacles, but I am delighted to have prevailed. The famed Tevinter hospitality is proving a most delightful experience. Archon Radonis is a leading light in the dark times we live through.’

‘An interesting journey indeed.’ The dry, sarcastic statement of fact came from a woman Cullen identified as being from House Pendicitus. ‘Such fascinating times we live in. Are you going to introduce the other guests, Gallus?’

‘Commander Cullen of the Inquisition needs no introduction, Valeria.’ By Gallus’ curt dismissal, it was evident the two magisters resided in diametrically opposed factions. ‘This young man is Enchanter Lars Trevelyan, formerly of Hasmal Circle.’

‘Splendid.’ Another man cut in before Valeria Pedicitus could respond. ‘New blood to liven up proceedings. Life certainly won’t be dull for a while.’

‘Quite so, my lord Pyrycus.’ Vivienne graced the sour-looking mage with a beaming smile, eager to put an end to the presentation and end the unwanted lines of questioning. ‘Your time is precious, my lords and ladies, and I would hate to impose further on Senate business. I look forward to meeting many of you at Magister Olearius’ gathering this evening and exploring how my humble skills can be of service to the Imperium.’

The low whispers as Vivienne declared her affiliation to a known Imperialist sympathiser was audible. The magister in question looked positively smug at having secured such an attention-worthy coup as she bowed in Vivienne’s direction. Cullen could do little else save registering that her life wasn’t in imminent danger, refusing to bend a knee to a hall full of snakes as he spun on his heel to follow Vivienne out. A curt nod of his head would suffice.

She’d revealed her hand in quite an audacious fashion. While Vivienne always had a flair for the dramatic, he’d been surprised at her declaring her intentions so quickly, and so publicly.

‘Keep them guessing, darling.’ Vivienne didn’t look in his direction once, her words pitched only for Cullen’s hearing as they steadily made their way out of the Senate. ‘Lingering is a luxury I cannot afford. Strike before the novelty has worn off.’

‘Subtlety has not been your strong point in recent months.’ Cullen stared straight in front, rapidly steering them out of the Senate and towards Gallus’ waiting vehicle. ‘Next time you announce your affiliations in such a manner, do me the courtesy of telling me beforehand? Especially if it involves me having to dance attendance on the pack of hyenas we’ve just left behind.’

‘Such a grump, my dear Commander!’ Vivienne smiled broadly as Cullen handed her back into the carriage. ‘Everything is running to plan. Today has exceeded my expectations. We’ll head back to the mansion now and prepare for Ducia’s party…’

‘Ducia?’ Cullen’s glare narrowed. ‘How are you on first name terms with Magister Olearius?’

‘She came as part of a Tevinter trade delegation to court years ago. We maintained a cordial correspondence after she departed.’ Vivienne settled her skirts and gestured for Cullen to close the carriage door. ‘Really, Cullen, did you think me a complete amateur, to be waltzing into Tevinter with only Gallus for company? Let’s be off, dear boy. You’ve limited time to make yourself presentable for polite company.’

Cullen resisted the urge to slam the door, waiting for Gallus and Lars to settle themselves. Lars’ concern and anxiety was palatable beyond the scrutiny of the Imperium’s finest. Cullen had no way to reassure him besides a quick nod of the head, a silent commitment to find time to catch up in private.

His head spinning and his senses buzzing with tension and anticipation, Cullen nudged his horse to a trot behind the ornate carriage. In no time he’d lose the familiar protection of his Templar armour, instead shoehorned into the ghastly getup of the formal wear of the Inquisition garb. How Vivienne had managed to arrange an exact copy, he didn’t want to dwell on. As he’d been shown time and time again, Vivienne was prepared to share nothing with him which would weaken her position.

_The odds are narrowing, my lady Vivienne._

_Two can play at that game. And what a surprise I have in store for you._

The flash of a grin appeared as Cullen instinctively reached out for Leaena and her sapphires, an unthinking habit he’d fallen into the moment they’d met and he’d sorely missed. Vivienne might well believe she held all the cards but she couldn’t have been more wrong. His future was sitting right here in another mansion in Minrathous, contentedly lost to the bliss of a healing sleep. Oh, that Leaena would have eventually followed, Vivienne knew, but so quickly? She’d been counting on the weighty matters of the Inquisition and their hidden route north to keep Leaena busy. How little Vivienne really knew her. Another mark very much in his favour.

Tonight, he’d speak with Lars about the evil of the magic spell. With any luck, one of the Inquisition’s allies would be in attendance at the wretched party, allowing him to gather further intelligence. Hopefully, Leaena would sleep through to the morning and then…..

And then, he’d find a way in the next few days to remove himself permanently from Vivienne’s presence with Leaena’s life firmly intact. It was a promise he’d made repeatedly and broken in such spectacular fashion, the path ahead fraught with recrimination thanks to the blue fire once more pumping through his veins. Come hell or high water, however, Cullen wouldn’t be parted from his wife to be ever again.

\----

_Apart no more…..my love….soon, I promise……together again….._

She shifted restlessly, the soft whisper of love and reassurance reverberating through a dream blurred with vivid shades of sapphire and cobalt.

_Cullen? Is that you?_

Lea reached forward blindly, her limbs leaden in the dreamstate she was caught up in. She had no concept of time, collapsed and pushed beyond exhaustion in her mad dash to reach Cullen before it was too late.

_Where are you? Why did you leave….we were meant to be together…..forever…._

Blue clouds shifted in her sleeping mind, the automatic, blind panic subsiding as the pulsing chill slowly subsided.

_Never again….I am never letting go….._

Warmth infused her soul, Lea floating lighter than air through the cobalt mists enveloping her spirit within their protective embrace.

_No more running. Ever. I will end this….._

‘Cullen! Wait!’

Fear lancing through her, Lea sat bolt upright in bed, wide awake as she stared around her room in confusion. Fine white sheets were a crumple on the floor, discarded from the huge bed she found herself in. The luxurious chamber was a concoction of cream and reds, thick rugs on the floor lightened by a shaft of sunlight peeking through the drawn drapes.

Her immediate surroundings in Magister Amladaris’ villa, however, were of little consideration. Cullen’s cobalt blue threads were so tightly woven into her magic, tears seeped from the corner of her eyes at how perfect the sensation was. Her last memory was pitching to the floor face-first in front of a startled-looking Magister, Cadan and Alistair managing to heave her ungainly form over the edge of the well they’d climbed up. The shock of experiencing the timeless joy of Cullen’s love, combined with a pain so searing had been too overwhelming for her to cope with. Exhausted to the bone and heart-sore from their separation, to experience the very real agony Cullen endured – driving him to imbibe lyrium once more – was the final straw.

‘But we made it, Cullen,’ she whispered incredulously to his beloved presence, hidden safely in the centre of her being. ‘Look at what we’ve survived. Against everything she’s thrown at us, we’re together….’

‘Lea!’

Her twin’s shout on the other door snapped her from her reverie, Cadan bursting into the room a second later. His black hair was wet and tousled from a bath, having pulled on his clothes in a hurry. Worry was etched on every line of his face as he closed the door, rushing to her bedside.

‘I heard you shout! Maker’s breath, you’ve only been asleep an hour. What the fuck woke you? You should have slept for at least a day!’

‘Cullen. Oh, Maker…..’

For a moment she breathed steadily in and out, the heady flow of magic and lyrium through her body still dancing in fevered delight. Cullen was there, really there. The surge of delighted and surprised awareness from him as he realised she’d woken put a silly smile on Lea’s face.

Just as she was about to allow herself a few seconds to wallow in the beauty of their connection once more, her smile faltered. The quality was the same but….altered….thanks to the lyrium he’d felt compelled to consume. The cobalt was a shade too sharp, the neverending thirst he’d always fought now replaced by a shame so acute Lea’s heart shattered. She drew a sharp inward breath in a wasted effort to soothe the stab of agony, fighting not to become lost to the aching sadness of the music in her ears.

There was a renewed fervour to the heat radiating through her body. Cullen was hunting, as only a Templar could. His rage at Vivienne, the terror at being surrounded by blood magic everywhere he turned in Minrathous and knowing the woman he loved was caught in its lethal web, only added to his intention to permanently end Vivienne’s games.

Stumbling as she dragged herself off the bed, Lea sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Maker that she was still dressed. Every second was precious in her frantic need to find a solution which wouldn’t result in Vivienne’s death, or her own. The luxury of waiting till they were ready to make their move vanishing in the wake of Cullen’s urgency to end the nightmare she was trapped within.

‘He’s…searching, right now for an answer, but he must not! We do not need a Templar let loose in this, of all places, right now. What is Vivienne thinking!’

‘Let loose…what? No, wait. Are you able to come downstairs and meet with Irian?’ Cadan ran a tired hand down his face with an apologetic look. ‘I was mid-bath when Alistair sent for me just a few minutes ago. Your timing is impeccable. It’s a blessing you’ve woken this early, although Maker knows you need the rest.’

‘There’s news? Fucking hell, let’s not sit…..ugh!’

Lea allowed herself a shuddering breath, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind. The world around her was in vibrant focus, hues and textures and edges dazzling her in their clarity. A steady hum of power thrummed in her blood, Lea now remembering the heightened energy being linked with Cullen always bought. She closed her eyes, battling the temptation to lose herself in the intoxicating high. Her desperation to be with him was matched only by the intensity of his own need to hold her once more.

‘I’ve waited months for this moment, brother mine. Sleep is irrelevant.’ Quickly she thrust her arms into her sorely dusty black jacket, hopping slightly as she pulled on her boots. ‘Lucky whoever put me into bed left me fully dressed. Although a bath wouldn’t go amiss.’

With a laugh at odds with his urgency, Cadan gestured for her to join him. ‘None of us would be so unwise as to make free with the Inquisitor’s motionless form, not even your own flesh and blood.’

It was bright in the late afternoon, hazy light streaming in from huge stained windows at either end as they walked past a series of rooms in what she assumed was the guest wing of the mansion. Lea was disinterested in her surroundings, fully awake, alert and solely focussed on the helix of blue in the very centre of her being. Retying her sadly knotted hair in a bun on top of her head, she couldn’t resist reaching out to Cullen and mentally hugging the very essence of him to her heart. Her reassurances helped, but there was little she could do from here to calming the black fury and crushing sense of self-failure dogging his every thought.

They were still both incredulous at their reunion, wavering from delirious delight to impotent anger at still being physically separated, to stark bleakness at the sorrow his flight had caused them both. In between were the multitude of questions on the long months of their separation unable to be answered through a magical connection alone. His renewed lyrium use seared an open, seeping wound deep across his conscience, one Lea prayed he’d be able to recover from even as she surveyed the damage caused by lyrium with abject dismay.

Speed was of the essence, not just to halt Vivienne’s ambitions. If Cullen didn’t stop lyrium soon, there was no guarantee he’d ever return to her with his mind whole. The deadly creep of blue fog was held at bay, for now, but she could sense it lurking, waiting to destroy his sanity. She had to extract him from Vivienne’s clutches. Then, the healing for them both could begin.

_Again._

With a sigh, Lea concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. For now, it was enough to have survived the Deep Roads and made it to Minrathous. Cullen was alive and breathing. One false move on her part could destroy their progress, no matter how rabidly her impatience was screaming at her to get on with it.

‘You’ve got that look again.’ Cadan steered her down a beautifully carved mahogany staircase, the grandeur lost on Lea. ‘I don’t need to ask if you and Cullen are having one of those virtual conversations. How is he?’

‘Well. As far as he can be when he’s drinking lyrium again and surrounded by excrutiating reminders of Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall.’ Digging her nails into her palms was usually her failsafe against emotional pain, one she had no problem indulging in now Dorian wasn’t there to lecture her. ‘Loathing being in Vivienne’s company.’

‘Well, there’s no surprise there. Show me a person who enjoys being in that vicious bitch’s company and I’ll show you a barefaced liar.’ Cadan stopped her outside a study where the low murmur of voices could be heard. ‘Are you sure you’re ready to do this? You’re looking dreadfully pale. Irian is the soul of congeniality, but be careful. This whole Vivienne affair is anything but a straightforward kidnap.’

Lea gave Cadan a grateful smile, squeezing his arm. ‘I’m fine. I have Cullen, to a point at least, my friends, and you to watch my back. There may only be a few of us here, but they are the very best Thedas has to offer.’

With a smile more confident than she felt, Lea walked steadily into what had to be Magister Irian’s study. It was a richly decorated room reminiscent of her father’s study, leather chairs and bookshelves in precise order, the dark browns and greens interspersed with the hint of gold studs holding covers in place. A massive oak desk dominated the room, in front of glass doors leading out to a stone-covered terrace beyond.

The men in the room looked up abruptly at her entrance and rose, astonished to see her awake. She gave a quick smile to Alistair and Varric, guessing Dorian had departed for his parents’ mansion, then looked straight at the tall, lean magister watching her with interest. He was a handsome man, around Halward’s age. It hadn’t been purely by chance she’d selected this House to visit rather than Halward or Maevaris. They were the obvious choices. Although there had been few witnesses, she’d heard enough of the final fight now dubbed Battle of the Titans by the gossip sheets. Staying at the home of Corypheus’ descendants was the last thing anyone would have expected of her.

And, if one thing was certain, the only way she’d win this last duel with Vivienne was to pull off the unthinkable.

‘Inquisitor Trevelyan.’ Irian gave her a short bow which she returned. ‘We were not expecting you to awaken for a while yet, but I am pleased to finally welcome you to my home. It is an honour beyond measure for House Amladaris to host guests of such stature.’ Irian’s slight glance towards Alistair registered residual shock at having the King of Ferelden lounging indolently in his study. ‘Events have accelerated beyond a pace even I would not have expected of the Senate. I would normally offer you more hospitality, but….’

‘We are most grateful for your accommodating our needs at such short notice. As for formalities, Magister Aml –‘.

‘Irian, please.’ Lea padded across a thick, forest-green carpet to settle in the chair he’d gestured her towards. ‘I won’t waste effort asking you how your trip was through the Deep Roads. Suitably grim and uncomfortable, I imagine. Your visit to Tevinter, Lea – if I may? has come at a most fortuitous time. The Senate’s warring factions have been more, ah, excitable of late than we are normally used to in the Imperium. To have the arrival of Madame de Fer, the Inquisitor and the King of Ferelden himself will provide a much-needed distraction.’

‘You wanted to say entertainment,’ Alistair noted wryly, passing Lea a drink. ‘Here, this should bolster your constitution. You’re going to need it.’ Looking back at the magister, Alistair sat back in his chair, a sardonic eyebrow raised. ‘Say it how it is, Irian. There’s some form of unpopular legislation you need to get through the Senate which will be of benefit to your House, and there will be a service we can also perform for the Archon at the same time – presumably bringing certain Houses to heel and restoring the status quo. We want Madame de Fer’s head on a pike, the Inquisition’s Commander restored to her side and information on my Chancellor’s whereabouts.’

‘A favour for a favour.’ Varric nodded his agreement at Alistair’s assessment. ‘You also need to remove your House’ association with Corypheus’ name. Helps that your lineage is amongst the oldest in Tevinter and you are a valued member of Radonis’ inner circle. Cue our entrance.’

‘Quite so. Hosting the Inquisitor herself goes a long way to restoring your reputation.’ Cadan lounged against the fireplace, nursing a glass of brandy, uncharacteristically untouched. ‘As I understand from the conversation earlier, there’s no time like the present to show our hand.’

‘What do you mean?’ She sensed a spike of irritation from Cullen, the usual brusqueness when forced to perform a chore not to his liking. Her heart soared at the return of such beloved familiarity, her pleasure immediately reflected in Cullen’s switch to rueful amusement as he acknowledged her gentle teasing. ‘Cullen is here, hale and whole. That much I know, especially as right now he’s thoroughly displeased about some imminent activity. I’m not a gambler but I’d lay bets this new intelligence and said activity are connected.’

‘Curly, grumpy?’ Varric’s snort of laughter lightened the atmosphere in the room. ‘Maker forbid. Good to know some shit’s still normal.’

‘If we had such a luxury, then waiting would be my preference. The game, however, has just taken an unusual turn.’ Irian’s look turned curious as he examined her with professional interest. ‘If you don’t mind my asking – the magical bond you have with your Commander. That’s what you’re referring to, isn’t it? I have come across such references in my studies but not for centuries have we witnessed a living example.’

‘It’s…’ Lea trailed off, struggling to put into words quite how unique her link to Cullen was. Raising her left hand she allowed a green flame to spark into life. ‘When the heavens were torn asunder and I was flung from the Breach with this alien magic coursing through my body, Cullen caught me. Templars carry lyrium within them for life to some degree or another even if they quit, and he’d only been a year or so out of the Order. The Veil was practically non-existent, altering my own innate magical balance. What caused it? Who knows? A combination of factors merged to bond us for life, a link which has only grown stronger over time.’

‘Fascinating.’ Irian was now observing her with a clinical interest reminiscent of Solas. Lea’s heart twisted, to remember her old friend who’d so abruptly vanished.

So many questions remained, none of which she wanted to share with a magister she barely knew. ‘One day, once this madness is over, I may settle down to a couple of decades of study. In the meantime, I apologise for the brevity of my answers, but we must hurry. King Alistair has lain out our priorities. Our connection gives us an advantage which Vivienne doesn’t have. Please, share with me the latest and we can plan from there.’

‘Vivienne arrived in Minrathous only two days ago.’ Cadan’s scowl deepened as he recounted what he’d discovered. ‘With Cullen. And one of our own, damn her hide. Remember Lars, our cousin several times removed from Markham? He was sent to Hamshal Circle a few years after you joined Ostwick.’

‘What!’ Lea’s fury blazed to match Cadan’s outrage. ‘She dared! Lars is ten times the mage she’d ever be! For no other reason than to get at me! Has she been insane all these years, to pursue this pointless vendetta?’

‘Lea.’ Alistair’s calm voice cut through her rage. ‘You need to breathe. You’ll not help Cullen nor your cousin if you lose control. There’s honestly no time for shouting. Listen to Irian.’

‘Sorry.’ Cullen’s concern eased as Lea got a grip on her temper, silently assuring him she wasn’t about to self-combust in anger. He would need to get used to it though. Sanguine wasn’t an emotion she expected to experience much of on this expedition. ‘Carry on. Facts, and quickly.’

‘Vivienne made her move today.’ Irian started to pace the floor, frowning in thought. ‘I had only just returned when you awoke. It was, in a way, fortunate you decided upon a quick nap when you arrived. It allowed me to watch your Commander, your cousin and your former mentor make their bow to the Imperium’s leaders.’

‘You saw Cullen?’ Lea sat forward eagerly, craving any news to confirm the joy she sensed through their connection wasn’t a concoction of her desperate imagination.

‘Indeed. There were some sour looks from the Senate guard at his appearance. Reports state the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall made his presence known upon his arrival. Apparently, he was displeased with the performance of certain Templars and, erm, educated them further on their sacred duties.’

‘That’s most definitely our Curly.’ Varric grinned unrepentantly. ‘Soldiers know about it when they’ve displeased the Commander. Most of them are intelligent enough to not repeat the process. Those who do, well…..let’s say there were enough recruits in Kirkwall drowning their sorrows in the Hanged Man to numb the ringing in their ears.’

‘Cullen’s reputation precedes him.’ Cadan gave a chuckle at the well-known image of Cullen delivering a blistering dressing down to errant troops. ‘My old friend does not suffer fools gladly, my lord Amladaris. It seems Vivienne was not the only one to make the theatrical entrance she craved. I imagine he quite stole her thunder. How very annoyed she must have been.’

‘Quite the figure he cuts, your Commander.’ Irian’s eyes glittered with amusement. ‘He received as much interest as Vivienne. Much to her dismay and his, I imagine, although he gave quite the masterful performance by avoiding speaking altogether. A sensible course of action. He’s more than just the usual forthright soldier. They breed Knight-Commanders well in southern Thedas.’

‘It takes talent and intelligence to rise to such exalted rank in the Templar Order, not just excelling at swordplay and chastising mages.’ Lea plastered on a smile, hiding the dart of anguish from missing him so badly while pride swelled in her chest at everything Cullen had achieved with his life. ‘Cullen is well versed in handling the finer points of diplomacy. He just prefers to ignore it in favour of being his usual Fereldan self. Vivienne will have underestimated him at her peril.’

‘We Fereldans aren’t stupid. We just prefer to let the rest of the world think so while we get on with what really matters.’ Alistair topped up her glass, giving her a wink. ‘All the better if Vivienne is thrown off balance by Cullen’s sudden display of competency.’

‘It was the meeting with the Archon which proved most interesting.’ Lea sat upright at Irian’s unexpected announcement. ‘I just had word. They’d attended on his Worship before heading to the Senate. Usually, Radonis would be present in the Senate for such an affair but they decided to split the presentation in two.’

‘Curious. Presentations of senior foreign mages are usually formalities to the Senate and Archon both.’ Cadan tossed back the contents of his glass, a look of approval on his face. ‘You have a fine cellar, my lord. But anyway, mages are presented, their indenture confirmed and off they trot in servitude to the magister not of their choosing for the next twenty years or so. Why was this different? I presume you have answers?’

‘Vivienne fancies herself as another magister.’ Lea could think of no other logical conclusion. ‘She thinks she can avoid the indenture thanks to her former rank, and at least reside in Tevinter without the need for service to a magister. But that wouldn’t be enough for her. She wants power, craves it as she’s so insecure. But how in the Maker’s name is she planning on avoiding such conditions? Fiona, Grand Enchanter of southern Thedas and much though it pains me to admit it, is a powerful mage and a strong fighter – a former Grey Warden no less. She was no more than shit on Alexius’ shoe. Who is Vivienne trying to kid?’

‘She received an audience for two reasons.’ Alistair considered his next words. ‘The first is easy. The Senate, similarly to the Orlesian court, desires novelty. Vivienne’s story is remarkable. She is a curiosity, an interesting plaything for those bored ruling classes caught up in their petty power plays.’

‘I can well imagine.’ Lea nodded, looking across to Irian, intrigued by his outwardly calm demeanour at odds with the ruthless gleam in his eyes. ‘And the second? Why is her audacious claim supported by the Archon himself?’

‘It’s a feint.’ Varric was begrudgingly admiring of the machinations in Minrathous. ‘Vivienne’s survived the Rite and manufactured a way for it to be reversed. Her powers are heightened as a result. She’s more than just a curiosity. She’s worthy of some concerted study against the age-old threat of Tranquillity, and once they’re done toying with her, she’ll become some magister’s prize with her body and mind served up on a petri dish. Relatively speaking, of course.’

‘Thus solving the diplomatic nightmare which would expose Tevinter to a war with Orlais. Something no one wants. Aside from me, perhaps.’ Alistair shot a cheeky grin to Irian. ‘Sorry, old boy. I’m just mightily fed up with Gaspard’s newly minted Chevaliers dancing along my border to prove how manly they are once they’ve won their spurs. A protracted war with Tevinter would remove that headache for me….oh remind me, Cadan, to write some sort of stern missive to Gaspard which gets the point across without encouraging even more of them to join in.’

‘As you wish, my liege,’ Cadan replied with a deadpan expression. ‘I’m sure I can find you some parchment and a quill in the next few minutes if you so desire.’

‘Actually, write it yourself. Even better. You’re much better at diplomatic flimflam. Then let me sign it.’ Alistair shot Cadan a knowing glance. ‘Who am I kidding? You can just forge my signature. You’ve already done so a thousand times, I’m certain.’

‘Perk of the job, sire.’ Cadan distracted himself from an awkward acknowledgement of his many abilities by pouring them more brandy. ‘Maker knows there’s precious few of them in service to the Fereldan crown.’

The banter between the two allowed Lea some breathing space. Thoughts slammed into each other at the implications, the pieces of a puzzle which had eluded her since Cullen’s departure now falling into place, even with the added complication of Lars’ presence. The Vivienne she was due to confront was not the same woman who’d hounded Lea’s life for the better part of two decades. That much was evident. The plans this Vivienne had set in motion were unrealistic, to put it mildly. If anything, it made her more dangerous, not less.

‘Touché,’ Lea nodded in thanks at her twin. ‘Now, if the two of you are finished, shall we return to the issue at hand? This is astonishing news, although I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Tevinter holding Vivienne captive would go a long way to soothe ruffled feathers in Gaspard’s court. Only he and Michel are aware of Vivienne’s escape from our custody. My mistake, which I will hold my hands up and own up to. It’s what I’m here to fix. I am sure Josephine can conjure up some suitable language to smooth ruffled feathers. Not that I’ll never forgive myself for such a lapse in judgement,’ she ended bitterly.  

‘Don’t fret over the past, sister.’ Cadan bluntly interjected into her frustration. ‘What do you think of the situation? Why such a specific interest in Vivienne?’

‘I am not personally interested in ‘researching’ a mage subjected to the Rite.’ Irian’s smooth interjection raised further questions in Lea’s mind. ‘We are aware of the Seekers’ hiding the Rite reversal, although we have yet to examine a certified copy of the tome Seeker Pentaghast made available for review recently. You must understand, Lord Trevelyan, there are very few mages who have undergone the Rite and even fewer who have survived enough to manage coherent thought. Vivienne is the only known example of both, and to actually remain fully functioning with even more magic at her control than previously known. For certain magisters, she is a prize worth adding to their collection.’

‘What nature would this experiment take?’ Varric asked curiously. ‘I’m a dwarf. I have no idea what kind of devices you’d use, but given what we’ve experienced in places like the Western Approach where we found evidence of mages researching Tranquil….it wasn’t pretty.’

_She stole Cullen and Lars for no other reason than to get at me, used blood magic to force their compliance…._

_All these years, wasted, for nothing other than her warped notion of revenge!_

‘You think I fucking care whether Vivienne’s stuck on the fucking rack while some magister dissects her brain for sport?’ Lea was spitting in her sudden rage, a gruesome memory of Samson’s Red Templars roaring to the forefront of her mind at exactly the same moment she saw the Brand come racing towards her forehead. ‘I want the whore dead. If that’s not possible because nations can’t play nice with one another, then her permanent torture in the name of science suits me just fine. One way or the other, she’ll end up six feet under.’

‘I’m sure it wouldn’t come to that, Inquisitor.’ Irian’s conciliatory tone didn’t please Lea one iota. ‘It has been centuries since we allowed such barbaric practices in our borders –‘.

‘But blood magic is fine.’ Lea slammed her glass down, her turn to stand and stare witheringly at the magister. ‘Blood magic has seen millions dead and is the reason I’ve come all this way, my Commander and my companions braving conditions no one should endure! That fucking bitch has me bound to her because of such corruption. If Tevinter will not guarantee me of her demise, I will do the deed myself!’

‘At the expense of your life, Lea?’ Alistair had risen, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘We don’t know the nature of the spell binding you – .’

‘Oh, I do. Cullen showed me.’ She missed the blink of surprise from the others at her bald statement, everyone unaware just how closely connected she was to her future husband. ‘If she dies, I die. She’s got a phylactery I presume, with my blood – as we theorised. It’s an archaic spell which no one has much information on. Cullen went with her because he has no idea how much I’d be affected from any sort of injury to Vivienne, otherwise he’d have clubbed her over the head, taken it and come home.’

She clenched her fists, stilling the fury swirling in her belly. The cumulation of over a decade’s worth of persecution and bullying was reaching its climax. She’d have the luxury of unravelling just how badly affected she was later. For now, her only focus was adopting the most effective course of action to stop the madness.

‘I am not waiting around years for a dispel nor searching the bowels of a Tevinter library in search of a cure like Freya has done. Given he was a former Knight-Commander, if Cullen doesn’t have the answer then it’s some hideous thing now lost in the mists of time. I need that vial back and then at least she loses a semblance of control over me, even if the spell itself will still be in existence.’

‘When did you figure this out?’ Varric was staring at her, appalled. ‘And if you die, does she die?’

‘I saw it, when Cullen and I….met again.’ She wasn’t prepared to explain, the earlier sense of fear she’d felt from Cullen gripping her. ‘Who knows whether she’ll die if I do? It’s a scenario which will never happen, so….’ With an effort, she forced herself to normalcy, staring straight at Irian. ‘My apologies. I do not mean to lose my temper. Please, continue.’

‘All forgotten, Inquisitor. It’s understandable, given the circumstances.’ Irian gave a slight smile. ‘It is not just the Commander who has a temper.’

‘They generally behave themselves. With one or two notable exceptions.’ Varric’s light quip bought Lea time to bring her rage under control. ‘The rest of us may as well not exist when Frosty and Curly don’t agree. Heated doesn’t come close. Last time they fought, Frosty froze fifty Red Templars in one go and Curly battered Samson to a pulp to relieve the tension.’

‘Cheers for the uplifting reminder, Varric.’ Lea paused, thinking through the potential solutions. ‘Maker, I ache all over. Alright, I accept Vivienne may need to continue to live. But I will seek the Archon’s guarantee that she will be locked up and guarded night and day. The Inquisition will hold no responsibility for her if this is the course of action you wish to pursue.’

‘Naturally.’ Irian inclined his head. ‘You wish to free Commander Cullen and your cousin as a first step. We can hold her captive once you’ve retrieved your phylactery and you’ll be free to go. She won’t be physically harmed. I will need some time, perhaps with Dorian, to examine the impact of any mental….exertion she is put under which may impact on you, but you have my word it will not take place until after you’ve either found a way to break the spell or we’re certain it won’t impact on you.’

‘That is acceptable.’

Lea reluctantly nodded her agreement. She was left with little option but to place her faith in the Tevinter Imperium, a scenario she’d never dreamed of prior to Vivienne’s audacious escape. Only Dorian’s presence in Minrathous offered her any sense of reassurance. Base instinct had driven her decision making since waking up to the horror of Cullen’s disappearance. It would have to continue to suffice for now.

‘Cadan, can you arrange for some sort of formal documents to be drafted? Gaspard’s lackeys won’t be pleased unless they have parchment covered in official-looking stamps. And you must understand, Irian, this is a woman who has persecuted me for half my life. I find it hard to believe she’s going to stop because she’s under a magister’s lock and key.’

‘By all accounts, Vivienne is somewhat unstable since the Rite, although perfectly coherent. Her mad dash to Tevinter have been nurtured by a certain faction loyal to the resurrection of the Imperium, and they’ve continued to fan the flames of her delusion. The Archon himself has guaranteed she will not step foot out of Minrathous for the rest of her days.’ Irian gestured Cadan towards his desk for them both to write instructions. ‘You southern mages scorn the use of blood magic, but I presume the rules being bent to keep her in one place and you and Commander Cullen safe from her attacks wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘Urgh.’ Lea waved a resigned hand in the air. ‘I need to err on the side of practicality. Blood magic in itself is not the cause of corruption, merely a tool. If this is what it takes to give me peace of mind…..just…..I don’t need to know. That’s a copout, but I am not about to interfere in the inner workings of Tevinter Circles.’

‘Good. I’m glad we agree. Cadan, send word to Teagan informing him of Vivienne’s capture. She felt free to traffic red lyrium across my borders so we too have an interest in ensuring she stays put this time.’ Alistair shook out his shoulders as he walked in a slow circle round the room. ‘The woman is a damned menace. What’s the plan to end this, for once and for all?’

‘Party!’ Varric’s smirk at Alistair’s look of horror had Lea muffling a burst of laughter. ‘Get your glad rags on, Your Majesty. Sooner than you expected too.’

‘What?’ Lea was so tired she could rest her head on the arm of this incredibly comfy armchair and doze right off. ‘I’m going to bed. How is a party going to help me get my phylactery and Cullen back?’

‘Ducia Olearius is hosting a small gathering.’ Irian looked at Lea with some sympathy. ‘Another Venatori sympathiser, but someone has to be, it seems. The affair starts in an hour although we of course wouldn’t be so gauche as to appear on time. Archon Radonis will be present, as will Vivienne. We can present you and King Alistair to the Archon without the tedium of court protocol delaying an audience.’

A sudden blaze of expectation flared in Lea’s chest. This was not the time to linger in protracted discussions, plotting out a lengthy set of steps. Rapid and decisive action was required, or the advantage would vanish. The Maker had sent an unexpected, but golden opportunity for Lea to strike when Vivienne expected it the least, throwing her ambitions completely awry.

‘Vivienne’s thrown her lot in with the remnants of the Venatori, that’s what you’re glossing over?’ Lea’s slow smile of anticipation was a welcome change from her rocketing despair and impatience. ‘How very jolly it would be for the Inquisitor to pay them a visit.’

‘Cullen will be there, Lea. There’s no way she’d risk going out without Cullen to protect her.’ Cadan’s voice from across the desk hit her. Her momentary lift of mood was smashed as she thought of Vivienne usurping her role by his side. ‘How do you want to manage it?’

‘Under no circumstances is Cullen to go poking around Minrathous using Templar abilities to stir up a hornet’s nest of epic proportions. I know it’s what he wants to do, to find a cure for me. He’s….he’s….’

_Terrified. Frightened. Devastated._

_Hurting like I’ve never felt you hurt before, my love. I’m so sorry. For failing you._

‘It’s alright, Lea.’ The compassion in her twin’s tone made Lea suddenly want to weep. ‘I get the picture. He’s a real, live Templar and they aren’t used to those here. Some bright spark will assume he’s gathering evidence of blood magic to take back to Leliana, put two and two together and come up with three thousand. Before you know it, he’s leading the next Exalted March on Tevinter and must die before that delusional circumstance takes place.’

‘The story he put to Radonis was that he’d your permission to escort Vivienne north.’ Irian shrugged. ‘We all know it’s complete nonsense but it provides a useful front for you to approach him and she won’t be able to do a thing about it.’

‘We’ll get a message to Curly, don’t you worry about it. Lars too. I suggest we leave that particular issue to Dorian. He can approach him as a potential mentor.’ Varric looked at the enormous grandfather clock on the back wall. ‘Not that I want to dwell on this too much, but if you want to make yourself look your best for him you’d better get a move on. You don’t want to appear in front of the Imperium’s finest with straw in your hair do you?’

‘Shit,’ Lea swore loudly as a basic realisation dawned. ‘I don’t have a thing to wear.’

‘You think Josie’s so disorganised?’ There was not the hint of a hitch in Cadan’s voice, although Lea knew better. ‘Check out your cupboard. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.’

‘Ready to don your glad rags, Alistair?’ The look on Alistair’s face suggested entirely the opposite as Lea watched his comical dismay. ‘Varric’s tale from the Deep Roads will suffice as an excuse for our unexplained appearance in Tevinter. No one would dare question us, after all, nor deny the importance of a live Titan. Let’s put our combined power to use.’

‘Dear Maker. Ducia is going to have the vapours. She’s also going to gain an awful lot of status for attracting the Inquisitor and the King of Ferelden to her soiree. Can’t be helped.’ Irian’s look of disappointment would have made Lea laugh aloud if she wasn’t so painfully aware of the seriousness of the situation.  

‘Lars had better not be getting eyed up as an indentured slave. They’ll have me to answer to. We’ll carry this discussion once I’m in decent attire. I’d like some ideas on how to lure Vivienne out into the open before I confront her tonight.’

With a toss of her head, Lea turned and left them, under instructions to be ready in less than an hour. Cullen’s cobalt was winding its dance around her, his happiness at having her so near and his despair at the seemingly hopeless situation causing her physical pain. She felt his quizzical enquiry at her elation, wishing she had a way to let him know they were to see each other sooner than he could guess.

Lea and Cullen were to be reunited. Albeit briefly, as they’d have to go their separate ways again at the end of the evening. It would suffice, for now. She’d waited months to see his beautiful face again and how she intended on controlling herself and not flinging herself into his arms she had yet to determine. She also lacked the detail of how she’d force Vivienne’s hand, but simply by letting the unknown play out this evening, the path forward would emerge.

With not a moment to waste and with her mind abuzz with determination, Lea skipped up the stairs, her foolish heart determined upon looking her best when she greeted her Commander once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [En Passant](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/En_passant) (from French: in passing) is a move in chess. It is a special pawn capture that can only occur immediately after a pawn makes a double-step move from its starting square, and it could have been captured by an enemy pawn had it advanced only one square. The opponent captures the just-moved pawn "as it passes" through the first square. The result is the same as if the pawn had advanced only one square and the enemy pawn had captured it normally.  
>  The en passant capture must be made on the very next turn or the right to do so is lost. Like any other move, if an en passant capture is the only legal move available, it must be played. En passant capture is a common theme in chess compositions.
> 
> [A](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4214223/chapters/9525645)
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/En_passant
> 
> Sorry for the long delay. This has been written and sat in my WIP folder, for like a month? with no chance of editing until the last couple of days. We have been plagued by illness and my poor girl has been sick for a month now with a nasty cough and cold that refuse to depart. The only good thing is that while holding her hand so she gets sleep I discovered Kdramas and beautiful Korean men to sigh over....::D I miss Cullen and Lea dreadfully so more will follow when my daughter is better and I manage to get a decent night's sleep or five! Thanks for your patience :)


	17. Cullen art by Gerry Arthur

Hi all, this is to let you know that I won't be updating for some time as I am undergoing a course of intensive DBT (therapy) over the next few months which requires all my concentration and efforts. I was recently diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder on top of my Bipolar. My PTSD diagnosis was changed to complex PTSD and I also need to receive further treatment for that after the course of DBT is completed. So because I'm not well at the moment I'm going to be taking a break from everything and focussing on my family and getting better. I fully intend to finish this story as Cullen and Lea are so very close to my heart, but I don't know when that will be. So I leave you with this fabulous art that I received as a Christmas present from my dear friend, Gerry Arthur, who's done another incredible depiction of Cullen coming straight from the training ground. To say I swooned when I saw this in my inbox was an understatement! Please do check out his gallery if you haven't done so yet. His art has inspired me over and over again.

Merry Christmas and a happy 2018 to all you wonderful readers. 

<https://gerryarthur.deviantart.com/art/Cullen-722263164>

 


End file.
